


While Tyr Slept

by FrostedGemstones22



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Bisexual Theodore Nott, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sex Magic, Time Travel, Witness Protection, gray magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2020-09-29 05:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 65,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20430104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrostedGemstones22/pseuds/FrostedGemstones22
Summary: Hermione Granger thought that she could not possibly be surprised by anything anymore, but Theodore Nott arriving at the safe house with a perilous, last-ditch solution to the nearly-lost war against Voldemort isn't even the most unbelievable thing. The most unbelievable thing is that Theo is supposed to be dead.**The Order is losing the War. Most are dead and the ones remaining are sure to follow. Theodore Nott has a solution. Give up everything to win it all back. It's simply not the Slytherin way to run head-first at a problem, and Hermione is ready to try anything. His solution? A bit more cunning. It's one thing to run straight at the King and hope for the best, but perhaps the solution is to get rid of the pawns- one by one- first.





	1. COVER

_Would you give up anything to save everything? _


	2. AESTHETIC BOARD




	3. PREFACE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to a bran-new story! This one has been coming to me so fast I feel as though I can't write it down quick enough, so expect very regular updates!
> 
> This is a time-travel story, which I heard that every Harry Potter fanfic writer eventually does, so here's mine I suppose. It's another Theodore/Hermione, so I hope you all enjoy it! It has a lot of tropes attached to it; fake marriage, time-travel, Witness Protection Program, enemies to friends to lovers, Voldemort!Wins AU...just to name a few, and expect more to come.

Daily Prophet

July 24th, 2001

**DEATH EATER RAID GONE WRONG LEAVES SIX DEAD, TWELVE WOUNDED**

By Rita Skeeter

_Imagine a beautiful summer day. Imagine the wind blowing across with just enough force to urge the summer heat into a warm glow. Imagine families playing a game of pick-up Quidditch on the beach, teenagers playing Exploding Snap, and lovers walking along the shore. Imagine how beautiful this is, and think of how it could be, if it were not for the wretched rebellion blowing up a beloved family vacation spot._

_The plight to catch the infamous slippery criminal, Harry Potter, was thwarted by the unwelcome addition of the Order of the Phoenix to a fight, showing that Mr. Potter needs everyone else to fight his battles for him._

_At approximately 7:28 pm, after entering a derelict building near the shoreline on a tip from a loyal and righteous Dark Lord supporter, a team of twenty of the highest-ranking Death Eaters were ambushed by a vile group of Dumbledorites. The fight quickly exploded from the confines of the building onto Banshee's Beach, a previously well-loved vacation spot among many._

_The leader of the raid, Dolohov, commented that 'they (Harry Potter's 'do-gooders', a lasting comment from their side and not ours) attacked without mercy' and 'were ruthless'. For all that they claim to be fighting on the side of the light, these witches and wizards were not aiming just to stun!_

_The skirmish lasted around half-an-hour, in which time Dolohov and his men quickly realized they'd been set up and Potter, spineless coward, was nowhere to be found. Instead, he'd sent his followers to do his work for him. At this time, the battle had already resulted in a number of deaths._

_Two non-combat civilians vacationing near the sea were caught in the crossfire; we mourn the loss of Mr. Hammar (54) and his daughter Selina (32). Mr. Hammar worked for the Ministry as a liaison in the Magical Cures and Curses lab, and we can only assume that he could have saved many had his brilliant mind not been so violently slain. His daughter, Selina, was a waitress at the Three Broomsticks, beloved by many, and reported that she touched the lives of many with a bright smile and good service. They were both shining purebloods in our community that will never breathe another day. Information about their service can be found on page 7, with the other obituaries._

_On Potter's side, one mister Colin Creevy (Gryffindor, Mudblood, 21) was heroically taken down by Crabbe Sr. Crabbe reports that he would have stopped them all if he could have, had he not been hit by a jinx that knocked him out within the first few minutes of the battle. We know that you would have, good sir, and we thank you for what you did manage to accomplish!_

_On the side of the true light, the side belonging to our illustrious and benevolent leader, The Dark Lord Voldemort, three brave and true Death Eaters met their end. We are in anguish over the loss of G. Montague (Slytherin, 25), A. Carrow (Slytherin, 44), and T. Nott (Slytherin, 22)._

_They each will have a full page in tomorrow's Prophet chronicling their lives._

_The attack has left many more wounded, including Lucius Malfoy, who we can only pray will pull through and make a speedy recovery._

_An inside source says they are actively investigating the trail of this tip to see if it was a set-up by a traitor to our cause or an honest mistake. We may have a rat in our midst, Merlin knows that if you were the horrible wizard who is to blame for the deaths of some of our best warriors, and you have done so knowingly, you may want to start running now. Trust me when I say that it might not matter; our Lord is graceful when he needs to be, but he does not appreciate dishonesty and he will hunt you down to the ends of the earth and make you wish as though you'd never been born. I hope it was worth it. Then again, I hope you get exactly what you deserve. The blood of this battle is on your hands._

_There is still no confirmed sightings of Potter. He remains as hard to catch as ever. His best friend, and likely lover, Hermione Granger has also not been seen for a good few months (though, once, an unkempt broom in the window was mistaken for her atrocious hair). There are conflicting reports that Ronald Weasley, blood traitor, was present at the battle. However, other sources claim that it might have been Fred. As all those Wealseys look quite similar, no one can be certain._

_There is a hefty galleon prize on all of their heads- dead or alive- so if you see these dangerous individuals, do not hesitate to alert a Death Watchman immediately! If you think you are doing a good thing by harboring these villains, remember that you will most certainly be thrown into Azkaban for breaking the law. Ask yourself; are these three, who are throwing the equivalent of a toddler's tantrum, truly worth your life and all you have to give the Dark Lord's society? Think hard, and do the right thing in the end._

_Remember, the sooner these children are found, the sooner we can retire to a more peaceful society._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is extremely short, I do agree, but updates will be once a week! The rest of the chapters will be a bit longer. Next chapter, we see what Hermione has been up to in this post-Voldemort wins world.
> 
> ALSO, this story is currently unbeta'd. If this first chapter is jiving with you and you're interested in seeing the rest of it live its best life and would like to be the beta for this story, reach on out!
> 
> If you are excited about this at all or are digging the first chapter, please leave me a review! Reviews give authors life.


	4. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited by everyone's response to this so far! I'm super excited for it tbh, and I just keep churning out chapters. Right now I'm at chapter 22, so at the very least, we know I'll have until that! I was at first expecting this to be maybe thirty chapters but, eh, I'm nowhere near the end. I'm just getting started.

_January 14th, 2002_

At around 2 am, Hermione crept out from under the foliage cover. She'd been hiding there since noon that same day. She would not allow anything- not even the intense hunger that clawed at her stomach- cause her to slip up and bring about her subsequent demise at the hands of Death Eaters or eager acolytes. She had to be sure that this area was deserted and that no one would come patrolling.

She knew from watching this subsection of houses for the past three weeks that at 2 A.M the shifts were changed, leaving her with a five-minute break to clamber into one of the empty, ash-covered houses.

Her legs aching and her stomach whining, Hermione raised herself to her feet. Her lower legs shook and prickled with a thousand tiny pins. Rubbing her gloved fingers over her jeans, she encouraged warmth and blood to flow back through them. It was 1:58. She had two minutes to get ready to sprint.

From inside of her endless bag, she pulled out a wand. Not her wand, but the wand she'd been using for the last eight months. The fact that the unfamiliarness of it (she could draw her own wand from memory, knowing each knot in the wood, and she remembered how unused she was holding this wand when she'd first got it) was starting to seem comforting disturbed her greatly. This wand was a random Snatcher's, someone's she'd grasped up while running after seeing them dragged into the forest by centaurs. Likely dead, but missing as far as the Death Eaters knew, or else this wouldn't have worked.

Her own wand, tagged by Lord Voldemort the moment she tried to do magic she would be besieged, lay at the very bottom of her bag, utterly untouched.

She'd done little magic in the last eight months, either entirely with this strange and unyielding wand that fought her every step of the way, or minimal wandless magic. She wasn't good enough to do intense, lasting spells wandless, but she also wasn't keen on inviting unfriendlies to her location every time she needed to do something. Thus, magic had become a forgotten weapon, Hermione favoring more tactile things like knives or shards of glass. That is if she had the strength to take on an enemy anymore.

She gripped the hilt of the wand firmly, biting her lip.

"Please, please," She whispered out loud, a fervent plea- to some greater power or to the instinctual magic of the wand, Hermione wasn't sure. She figured they were one and the same. Her voice was raspy and raw. It had been a while since she'd spoken out loud. She frowned, had it been one or two days?

Well, the last time she'd needed to speak was when she'd met up with Lee Jordan at the safe-house. Merlin, that had been four days ago! That had also been the last time she'd had any food of substance, thus the incessant gnawing and gaping feeling inside of her.

Hermione breathed in, tapping the wand over her head.

"_Disguio_", She whispered. It was a spell of George's design, stronger than the average invisibility spell. It combined a 'Notice-Me-Not', giving her to ultimate covertness.

While the usual spell felt like a thimble of cooled water poured down her spine, tingling for just a moment, the advanced version of the spell felt like an entire tub of ice-water poured all over her. It would remain the entire time she was invisible, leaving her teeth chattering and her arms shaking. Being cold was preferable to being hungry, however, since Hermione wasn't sure what the next chance for food was going to be.

As soon as the guards apparated away from the main road, Hermione was stumbling over overgrown yards and half-sunken ceramic garden gnomes to the front door of the first muggle house. She took a hairpin out of her ratty hair, ignoring the clumpy and greasy feeling that came without a proper wash in about a month, expertly picking the lock in under a minute.

The entire house was filled with dust and bitter feelings. Magic was sentient enough to leave traces, especially when something unspeakable happened here.

Hermione wrapped her scarf around her nose, ignoring the pungent scent of decaying bodies. An entire Muggle family, annihilated, just like the entire street. Left to rot on their couches, eerily sprawled across the living room, bodies half-decayed. Hermione made a point not to look too closely nor to examine the family pictures lining the halls.

In the kitchen, she started rummaging.

She hoarded any food she found, shoving it into her bag, not wasting time to put a feather-light or shrinking charm on it. Her bag grew heavier with each house she slipped into, and it was the best kind of uncomfortable weight there was.

If her calculations were correct- and Hermione was still confident in her ability that they were- by the time she had slipped into the fourth house, the new guards would be posted. By the time that they started checking for footprints, she'd be on the sixth house. By the time that they had an inkling, if any at all, that someone lingered, Hermione will have cleaned out the ninth house. By the time that backup popped in, having followed the signature casted by the wand she had stolen, Hermione would be gone. The wand, wrapped with Harry's invisibility cloak, would be impossible to trace. If Hermione was shorter, she'd use that herself, but as it was...she needed movement and mobility. Throwing a heavy cloak around one's shoulders was what made you trip over your own feet and, at best, break your jaw on the pavement.

She counted her time with her thumping heart. Her wrist-watch had shattered two weeks ago, so Hermione had found another way to measure the passage of time. She methodically cleaned out the kitchens of these unfortunate muggle victims. She was ruthless, much like her enemies. She was untouched by anger or sadness or fear. If she even let one of the emotions run wild, she would slip up.

It's how everyone died in this world.

Locking away her emotions had been a learned skill, one that Snape had insisted on before his early demise. It had been as arduous for her as any other task. Gryffindors were not well known for keeping their feelings in check. She'd done it, though. She'd managed to elevate her mindfulness to run on the barest of needs. If it would distract her, it simply had to go.

It was only at the last house that Hermione allowed herself to search for material items. She found warm socks in the dresser upstairs, ski-parka in the downstairs closet, a new pair of boots that were not tearing at the soles. Had she unlimited time, Hermione would have perused the woman's closet. While the woman was on the smaller side, the weeks without food had left Hermione gaunt enough to fit into her clothes. She could have done with long sleeves that weren't threadbare or jeans that weren't patched so much that they resembled a clown costume. Hermione could have happily shed her old clothes, had she not been reminded of the impending arrival of other Death Eaters. As it was, she took the three most essentials and slipped into the cold, biting January night.

Bundling up with the jacket, Hermione made herself wait until she'd reached deep into the woods to cancel the spell upon herself. Immediately, warmth rushed in. Her fingers tingled and her face tightened. Her shaking fingers unlaced her boots and threw out her socks- covered in mud, dirt, sweat, and blood- in favor of her new ones.

Never pausing her movements, Hermione trudged through the frozen landscape.

She pulled out a can of noodles from her bag, wrenching the metal lid off. She'd always found the current flavor and aftertaste of this meal so nauseating. Funny how when pushed to extremes, your mind adapted. Your body allowed things that it might not have before. As Hermione sank her fingers into the cold, more than slightly-stale can, she savored every mouthful as though it were ambrosia. Her stomach turned, having not had more than water recently, but Hermione held it down. She would be aghast if her first meal of the week ended up regurgitated at her feet. Her stubbornness was one of the few traits that kept her alive, her absolute resistance toward anything she did not want to happen.

She licked every hint of sauce from the can, swirling her finger around the rim for anything left. She could have done with more food. She could have done with a whole feast, but she could not. There were so many others that relied upon this.

She uncorked a small bottle from her belt. Black Market Vitamin Remedy, which was how she'd stayed satiated up until this point. It gave her most of the necessary nutrients while also quelling her hunger enough so that her stomach was pleased with what it received. It cost her her copy of _Hogwarts; A History_ for this vial, a drink that she'd managed to stretch over the past couple months. She was nearly out and was running out of things to barter. Snape had previously provided what was left of the Order with potions, but the dead were not exactly renown for their ability to do, frankly, anything.

While Hermione walked the four hours to the meeting point, she tried to keep her mind busy by reciting potion recipes. She wanted to forget the nipping of winter at her fingers just as much as she was worried about her mental capabilities, now that they were not being challenged as they used to.

She should have been able to run through around fifteen complex potions in the time allotted, but only managed to get through twelve. She became stuck on T_he Draught of Living Death_, having forgotten how many beans were to be added, and also knowing that she was forgetting a key ingredient. It took her nearly half an hour to deep dive into her mental memory to find Valerian Sprigs as the forgotten ingredient.

How much Hermione missed Potions classes! She would have gladly taken more time with Snape and his clear preference for Slytherins and his dislike for Hermione if it meant returning to Hogwarts. If it meant learning or normality or the end of this war.

The last time she'd been able to do anything other than focus on survival and the keeping of others alive had been over a year ago. As soon as Grimmauld Place had been compromised, and the remaining Order members scattered to the wind, it had been a constant fight of wits and will to remain alive. Contact was few and far between. Most of her information came from furtive quick glances through the Prophet whenever Hermione wandered near a Wizard town or the grapevine when she was lucky enough to stumble across another survivor.

She hated how most of the information on who was alive and who was dead now came from the news headlines the likes of Rita Skeeter were pushing out, praising The Dark Lord and metaphorically dancing on the graves of her fallen comrades.

Every new dead Death Eater, Hermione allowed a few seconds of glee to fill her. It was rarer now, their numbers and skills increasing, and Hermione hated how she'd become such a glutton for hearing about a good hit cast. She did not want to admit, deep down, there were far too many of the other side at this point to even consider turning the tide.

This was just an unacceptable opinion if you asked her.

She reached the safe-house, though to call it a 'house' would be entirely disingenuous. It was more a safe-hut, as more than two-roomed locations drew unwanted attention and were often discovered within six months.

After dismantling a whole host of protective spells by offering blood, the only way to do so without wandwork, Hermione slipped inside.

On the table, she laid out her takings, sorting it carefully into piles to try to assure that someone might benefit from all the food groups. Most of it was pre-packed food, all the really healthy things like fruit or meat long since going bad in ice-boxes and on counter-tops, but it was more than anyone usually brought back.

She was particularly excited about the meeting today, as Bill was meant to come to pick up the items. He may have heard about Ron or Harry. They'd gotten separated after the raid on Sirius' ancestral home and she hadn't heard more than rumors about either of their whereabouts since.

She had not guaranteed when Bill was set to arrive. It could have been anywhere from 10:00 am to 5:00 pm, as he'd be hopping across England to confuse Snatchers trying to grasp onto his magical signature.

In her mind, Hermione counted off who she'd last heard alive, who this food could possibly go to.

George, Bill, Lee, Viktor, Lupin, Sloper, Molly, and Susan were the only few that she was nearly sure of. Harry, Ron, Lavender, Seamus, Lisa, and Katie Bell were those that she hadn't heard much about, but she also had not read about their deaths. She erroneously added Anthony Goldstein to the 'possibly alive' list, until she recalled that a week ago, she'd caught a glimpse at the headlines.

_'Order Rebel Slain by Hero MacNair'._

She hadn't the time nor the energy to read the whole article, but she'd read the first paragraph and gathered that he'd been caught near the French coastline, taken in for questioning, and killed during torture. It had made Hermione whole body heave to imagine what he'd gone through, as she herself had seen many of the end products of her friends who had been captured and tortured.

Anthony was dead.

Just another name to add to the ever-growing list.

In the time waiting, Hermione took a cold bath in the tub with water pumped from a nearby well. It was no warmer than the spell she'd cast over herself, but there was a sliver of soap remaining, so it at least made her clean. She tried her best to clean her clothes, as cleaning one's body only to put back on rancid clothes was no better.

There was a small fire pit and wood for her to burn, so while her clothes dried, she sat in her skivvies as close to the flames as she could allow herself.

Bill never came.

As the hours wore on, Hermione tried to keep a positive outlook. He was likely avoiding detecting by being extremely careful, she told herself. He was such a skilled fighter, one of the reasons he'd survived.

Still, the window came and passed and Bill- nor anyone else- ever activated the wards. Hermione even sat on the roof of the magicked house, in case they were too weary to take them down themselves.

As the day slipped into an inky night, Hermione had to face a startling reality.

Most likely, Bill was dead.

There was no reason that he should miss a pick up for food, not when most of the Order Members were starving, not when it was so essential for him to make contact.

She remembered her father telling her if she heard hoof-beats, think horse and not zebra. Occam's razor. The most likely scenario was that Bill was dead.

The house was still safe, but Hermione could not remain. She needed to return to her own hide-out to check on her potions bubbling, any potion that Hermione could do without the need of wandwork. She took some food for herself, resisting taking it all. On the chance Bill was late or someone else came, she did not want them to be left hungry.

She would swing back in two weeks. If it were still untouched (and, it would still be 'good', most of these expiration dates a year or so away), then she would know.

Apart from the articles, this was the other source of confirmation Hermione had. Returning and seeing things still untouched and knowing, somewhere deep and anguished, that she'd never hear from them again.

Her own hide-out was currently an abandoned factory. She never stayed anywhere more than a month, as difficult as it was to move potions that needed three or four months to simmer. She could not afford such luxuries. As it was, she slept on a half-destroyed couch with a few blankets and anything of value stayed stashed inside of her beaded bag.

Ron had the expandable tent, having grabbed it as they fled. There hadn't been time to discuss when to meet up next, so Hermione just lived day to day, aching for her best friends. In the beginning, she had continued to linger close to places that they knew. The Forest of Dean, Muggle London, Little Whinging, and Godric's Hollow to name a few. The Death Eaters prowled these areas so consistently that Hermione was sure that Harry and Ron could not afford to be there. Apart from that...she had no idea.

The radio show the twins had invented had only lasted six months after the Battle of Hogwarts. After Fred's death, George just lost it for a while. Who could blame him? And, there were already so few of them that taking any risks like communication via radio waves was entirely not worth the risk.

So, Hermione spent most of her days trapped in her own thoughts without another friendly face for miles.

She ate a granola bar as she slipped inside the derelict factory. She carefully folded the wrapper and slipped it into her coat pocket. Morag had been caught because she'd left a few cans out in the open after eating and someone had noticed. The Prophet had laughed at what a silly mistake that had been.

In terms of how to get killed? Hermione had a list a thousand long that she tried to keep track of. Do what others did not do.

How to survive? Well, she was still figuring that out. Her number one best bet, however? Always trust your gut.

Immediately, her good instincts tingled, letting her know she was not alone.

On the defense, she pulled the stolen wand from her bag, ready to cast a highly painful stunner, snap the wand in two, and disappear if she had to. She had a few potions that were highly anticipated, but she'd leave it all behind if it meant her safety. She was already considering where she could snag another wand and where she should go next. Back near Bristol, there had been a storefront that she'd noticed that could be of use if it wasn't overrun already. Or she could pop up to Scotland, trace along the forests near the Forbidden Forests, see if the centaurs were willing to talk. Her mind was whirling frantically as she lifted her stolen wand to cast one of Ginny's stinging hexes she'd been working on.

Before she could even spin, a wand was pressing to her neck, a clear threat. Then, stiffening and heart pounding, she heard the silky voice of someone who she had not heard since 6th year and who should absolutely not be speaking at all; Theodore Nott.

"Granger, let's please be reasonable and give me that wand."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Hermione's life was a book, right now it would be that Dinosaur one called 'All My Friends Are Dead'.
> 
> If you're really jiving with this and love correcting grammar, I'm still looking for a beta!
> 
> If you're jiving with this and just enjoy reading, please consider leaving a review! Next week; Dead Men Tell No Tales...or do they?


	5. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a lot of things I seriously hate about The Cursed Child (tbh, most of it) but the one sorta interesting thing is Theo and the Notts and time-turners. That can be canon. The rest of it can go fuck itself. I have very strong feelings about this.

Hermione weighed her options. She erased the impossibility of it all right now (How could Theo be here? He was dead, wasn't he?), her will to live taking over as she went through her choices.

Nott's voice was firm, commanding, and did not falter. She had no doubt that his next words would be unflinchingly cold and would cast upon her something painful. She had been on the receiving end of the nasty things Death Eaters could summon and didn't fancy her insides turning to lead or her blood burning with acid. If she gave away her wand, she was powerless. She could try to hex him, but she wasn't sure she was strong or fast enough in her current state to win.

"If you're going to take me into torture me, just kill me now," Hermione said curtly, seeing little reason to make herself a sitting duck, "I'd prefer death to a windowless cell." She knew he'd probably still apprehend her anyway. Still, some sliver of her hoped that he'd recognize that they were children once, in the same class at Hogwarts, and have a nostalgic streak. She heard him take two slow breaths. She hunched her shoulders, waiting for the uncomfortable pull of apparation, a curse, or dark nothingness.

"Granger, if you hand that over, I swear to your beloved deceased Dumbledore's spirit that I will not harm you." He pressed the wand firmer against her neck, "I won't unless I have to."

It was a sentiment that Hermione found settled against her uncomfortably, as it was her own mantra these days. She'd done awful things, but only because it was required of her. Only because it was the only way. Only because it was necessary.

She didn't know what caused her to believe him. Nott was a Death Eater, probably had been since the end of sixth year. He was, by definition, one of the least trustworthy people she could think of. Still, her fingers released the wand. It rolled to his feet. The sound clattered around the empty warehouse, the sharp snap against the floor and the rolling grating her fervent prayer that he had not been fibbing.

He'd managed to take her beaded bag too. She had no wand now, no weapons other than what she could scrounge on the floor. As Nott picked up the wand, stashing it, she allowed herself to turn.

He was much like she remembered him. Sixth year, hadn't it been? Years. Still, she recognized him. He was older, as was she, his face shaper and his eyes colder. His expression was that of a man who'd lived fifty years, not the handful of twenty and some that he actually was. If he realized she was staring, he made no notion.

He still looked put-together, however. He always had. She remembered that Malfoy had looked like he'd rolled out of bed into the Great Hall sometimes and Zabini couldn't care less about looking 'nice', but Theo had always had his shirt pressed and his tie exactly in place. Today, his hair was parted, his face was clean of stubble, and his woolen jacket was picked clean of dirt and dust. She saw the flash of an expensive watch against his wrist as he plucked his wand from between his teeth, where he'd been holding it as he confiscated Hermione's items.

Nott sheathed his own wand, holding up his hand, "See? I come in peace."

"Real peaceful," She spat at him. His expression didn't falter.

"I had to be sure you wouldn't kill me on sight."

Kill.

Hermione frowned. Nott wasn't supposed to be able to be killed at all. He was supposed to be six-feet buried underground, cold and stiff.

She frowned, breath hitching. She began to mutter to herself, starting with any potions or side-effects that could cause her to hallucinate. He looked far too solid to be a true specter, too life-like. Even if Hermione hadn't reached out to touch him, the feeling of his wand on her neck had been all too real.

Was she suffering a mental break? Had the loneliness done her in and she was completely imagining all of this? And if so, why did her mind conjure a wizard she hadn't a passing thought about in such a long time? Oh Merlin, was she already dead? Was this some sort of fucked up limbo, where she was answering for the red she'd added to her hands, forever being chased with no winning in sight? Losing people? Seeing ghosts of the dead haunt her, harm her? How long had she been dead? Days, months, years?

"Granger," Nott said, "Granger, Hermione!" He said sharply. The use of her name caused her to jolt from her thoughts, looking at him wild wild eyes, "I'm very much here and alive."

"You're supposed to be dead though," Hermione croaked, "I saw the papers. Or so I…" She trailed off, eyebrows knitting. She always prided herself on her memory, but already she'd forgotten the way to make Draught of Living Death and that Anthony was dead, so perhaps she'd misattributed Nott's death to someone else.

"I suppose I am, hmm?" Nott raised an eyebrow at her, sitting on her couch-bed, "Yet here we are."

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Like he'd threw the answer out mentally, she realized an option she'd overlooked. It was obvious now.

"You faked your death." It was one of the most logical solutions, though the reasons for it currently was lost upon her. It was leagues more reasonable than the other possibilities, and also the most favorable. For if Nott truly was dead, it would mean that Hermione was close to losing her mind.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," Nott looked her up and down as he spoke, "Merlin, you look awful." He choked. In comparison, Nott looked a little slimmer than she recalled, but overall had a healthy glow to him. His robes weren't torn and dirty and his fingernails were perfect, as though he'd just been to a spa yesterday.

She had caught a glimpse of her reflection at one of the muggle houses and had nearly faltered in her rhythm of food collection. She knew she must look like she had one foot in the grave; sunken in cheeks, an ill-yellow tinge to her skin, dirty and crusty clothing, unmanageably tangled hair...it was no different than how she'd looked for quite a bit now, but she supposed if she'd startled herself Nott was bound to be surprised too.

"We're fighting a war," She replied back. Nott shook his head.

"You're losing a war," He said. Before she could fire back an argument, he was clasping his hands, "I come with an offer."

Hermione crossed the area to her potions, stumbling over a furious reply, "If that's so, then you're winning. Why would I have any reason to-,"

She broke off, scowling at her potions. Shen she turned, Nott having gotten up to join her, his face was tinged pink.

"While I was waiting, I uh, examined them. Top notch, mostly, of course. I stirred this one five times-," He began, pointing to a grayish toned one.

"Counter clockwise?" Hermione asked accusingly.

"Clockwise," He replied back, passing her test, "It would have overheated and been useless otherwise." He tilted his head to a potion which had previously been green but now was a healthy looking light pink. It was a pain reliever, one that Hermione hadn't been able to achieve such a flushed color of before, causing it to be less effective. Of course, she could have used wandwork, but that would defeat this purpose and semi-accurate pain potion was better than none at all. She felt her body ready to take fight again; if Nott used his wand to fix it, then surely they'd be overrun in minutes! Nott saw her stony expression.

"I added five fennel leaves, no enchantments," Nott said, "It enhances the effects. It's something I discovered while researching it two yeas ago. Honest."

Hermione hummed, miffed, but could admit that Nott was a gifted potioneer and hadn't screwed up anything. She was also furious for not considering fennel before, but well, she didn't quite have the luxury of researching potions or spell refinements.

She turned, "You still have not answered my question."

Nott's face darkened, "Because when 'we' win, we really don't. Only one person ever really wins." He didn't say His name, wisely, since Hermione wasn't in the mood for a Snatcher's duel right now.

"I don't believe you," Hermione whispered. She was jaded, little surprise.

"Others have defected," Nott pointed out, "Snape, Warrington, Blaise just to name a few...why can't I?"

Hermione had no good answer. She locked her jaw, pointedly glaring at him.

"Hermione," He sighed. There he went again, using her first name instead of her surname. She couldn't recall him ever doing so at Hogwarts, and somehow when he said it, the way it spilled over his tongue made her tingle. It was a unique way of saying it, not wrong, but he put a certain stress on some of the letters that made it sound different, but she wasn't sure how, "If I had wanted to capture and kill you, I would have already. I'm here to fix things."

"It's too late now," Hermione said, "Besides, there's nothing to fix. We just need to rally and plan and-," She watched as his face grew almost pitying. In truth, she wasn't even sure she believed herself, the words slipping out without thought. She was so used to expressing the same sentiments, over and over, unfailingly and confidently to all those that started to feel hopeless. She hadn't been able to show true anxiety over the war for a long time now. Apparently, if Hermione started to lose faith, all hell broke loose.

She'd once heard that if you said something enough, you started to believe it. Deep down, she wasn't sure where her lies and her true belief in the power of good started and ended. But she'd be damned if she let Nott know this.

"You know in your heart of hearts that you and the ones who remain are just going to picked off, one by one, until you're all dead. It's over."

"No," Hermione sputtered, her knee-jerk reaction to insist that all was not lost, "I can't...I haven't been…" She pulled herself back in, taking a few heaving breaths. She might not have a lot of faith anymore, but there were two certainties she was sure of. Two people, rather. "I will not allow that. Harry and Ron, they can-,"

"Hermione," Nott's face was ashen, all the color draining from it. He looked cagy, and grasped her arms, "You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?" She wished her voice did not quiver.

"Potter and Weas...er, Ron and Harry. They're dead."

Hermione stared at Nott, uncomprehending. She couldn't even shake her head, she just stared. Her whole body went cold, goosebumps rising on her skin at those words. This was worse than her most horrible nightmare. You woke up from nightmares. Nightmares couldn't hurt you. This was something more sinister. This was true horror. For once, she was shocked speechless. Her silence seemed to encourage Nott on, who took a deep breath before continuing.

"Harry, he's been dead for a month. I mean, I guess you couldn't know, no one does except maybe me. Well, and Draco knew. I reckon that's all who do. We came across him in the woods. Far as we could tell he ate something that got him sick and he was just too weak. Ron was captured a month ago and you probably haven't seen the papers, but he died two nights ago. It's all over. Everyone knows about him now. If it makes you feel better, he never told a soul anything. Even with Occulmency, you must have taught him well, or Snape, because he died with all his secrets. "

Hermione wanted to accuse him of lying. She wanted to lash out, hit him. She wanted to move, but was stuck frozen to the ground.

She could not believe they were gone but she also believed him.

His last words about Ron tickled the back of her brain. If it made her f_eel _better?

Hermione felt a flash of rage, hot and furious, descend upon her. She reached out and shoved Nott hard, fists clenching at her side. She'd slapped Malfoy with an open palm, but Merlin she would punch Nott with her closed fists.

So she did. She caught Nott off guard, hitting him square across the face. Her knuckles burned from the contact. She wasn't sure why she was hitting him; for coming and telling her so callously, or because she was trying to hit the idea of Death Eaters in general? She went for a second hit, but Nott easily caught her wrists and she realized he'd, for some incomprehensible reason, _allowed_ her to hit him. Just once. He was blinking at her curiously, like she was some wild creature he'd never been so close to in real life. Like a viper waiting to snap, like a lion inches from devouring prey, like a wolf snarling. She was feral and dangerous and she welcomed this.

"How do you think I feel?" She demanded, shaking, feeling the anger crackle around her like lightning, "Your kind tortured him until he died and you're just saying 'well, he didn't say much'?"

"I just thought that…" Nott frowned, confused, "I couldn't have saved him, even if I wanted too. I wasn't even supposed to know he was there or anything about his death. Fuck, I'm sorry." He reached for Hermione but she shied away, gasping for breath. She couldn't breathe. Her throat closed up and her vision fuzzed.

She felt wetness on her cheeks and realized she was crying. She hadn't cried in such a long time. If she cried for every person who died, every moment that got hard, she would spend all her time sobbing in a corner.

But once she started, she couldn't stop. It was somehow so unfair that Harry was killed by something so mundane, something as stupid as illness. Not even something magical. And Ron? Oh, her heart hurt for him. She had seen so much death that her mind was swimming with conjured images of their pale faces and glassy-eyed stares as her mind tried to spark and burn the information she'd just learned.

Ron and Harry were dead. She'd never see them again, never be engulfed by their arms in a three-way-hug. She'd never fix Harry's glasses or run her fingers over his unruly hair. She'd never lean into Ron's shoulder and inhale his cinnamon and wet-grass smell that clung to him. She'd never have either of them try to explain Quidditch to her or tell her why that move that that Beater did was incredible, nor would she ever bother them to read a book while rolling her eyes and laughing. They wouldn't hold hands over a sunrise at the end of the war. She'd never get to see either of them get married or have children or watch new witches and wizards off at Platform 9 and 3/4ths. Every late-night imagined future, the futures she'd cataloged in her mind to keep her sane, all seemed to vanish into thin, white smoke.

Nott looked mildly uncomfortable by her tears, his eyebrows knit, but held her up as her legs threatened to give out. He might have been mouthing something like 'I'm sorry', but she couldn't concentrate over the agony that rushed over her.

The hollowness of these deaths settled in after, refusing to budge.

It was over, really over. How could they continue on when Harry was gone? They would never be able to. He was the lynchpin, he was the face of their cause. The fissures were already felt, and it wouldn't be long until the entire rebellion was cracked down the middle, everyone dead. Including her.

"Hermione, listen to me, hey," Nott was staring at her intently, "I have a plan."

"You...c...can't po...possibly," Hermione hiccuped, shaking her head, unable to formulate her argument. There was nothing that could bring Harry back and win this war. No one would fight without Harry. They were finished, for good. They'd spit at Nott and never accept his ideas. He'd come too late, done too little.

He was pushing something into her palm. It was a flask. She didn't even think as she uncorked it. She'd actually been expecting Firewhiskey or some other alcohol, which she wouldn't have complained about, but instead the familiar tang of a calming potion greeted her. In an instant, it was like someone put a dimmer on her emotions, on her sadness.

"Salazar, I should have given you that first. I'm sorry, I guess I didn't think," He shook his head, "I thought you knew about them by now."

"I don't have much contact with others."

Nott's face was grim.

Hermione closed her eyes. She felt adrift, without a cause. She wasn't sure what her next step would be. This entire fight felt so...meaningless. Not meaningless in that Hermione would ever stop fighting for what was right, for her freedom, but it felt more like she was going to be continually patching a gaping wound with a bandaid than healing it. Sure, it's what they were doing before, but Hermione had been sustaining the Order with the expectation that others, like Harry, were doing things to take Voldemort down.

And did it fall to her now? Was it her job now to suicide-floo into Malfoy Manor, one last blaze of an attempt? Or did she still hide out, like a mouse escaping the cat, just waiting for someone to catch her and string up her innards, leave her to bleed out?

There was a tinkling of sound, something Hermione was acutely aware of. It was a sound that was pulled from the depths of her memory, fished from her subconscious. A sound that not many heard, fewer memorized.

She snapped her eyes open.

In Nott's fingers was a time-turner.

"Where did you get that?" Her voice was scarcely above a whisper, "They were all destroyed." All of them, even the one she'd gotten so used to in her third year, had been shoved over and were now in an endless cycle of falling and smashing on the ground in the Department of Mysteries, for all purposes defunct, "Did you figure out how to…" She felt sick. If Voldemort had managed to figure out how to fix that, the things he could do were endless. It would truly be the end of them if every Death Eater could be affixed with a time-turner.

"No, those are beyond us," Nott said slowly, lowering the time-turner into his palm, cautiously, "I made this one."

Hermione blinked, "You _made _it."

Nott nodded, "There are only two people that have the ability to make one. Me and my father. We found it in an old Nott grimoire. My father's dead and I have the book. All of it is here too," He tapped his head, "But this is the last Time-Turner that we know of."

Hermione took it. It was the same weight of her last one, so precise that the craftsmanship nearly made her sob. It was so perfect looking. She didn't dare fiddle with the knobs, though she knew exactly how to use them, but just examined it.

"Lucius asked us to make him one. My father probably thought that he wanted to do it to please the Lord, but I felt that he was going to use it to turn back and take himself from all of this. He was going to defect too, but he didn't manage it. He died soon after we started making it, but my father still thought it would impress Him." He let loose a sly smirk, "It would have. The only option to finish this safely was if I vanished. If no one was looking for me."

"Thus, your death," Hermione surmised. She frowned. Time-turners were built to only allow the user to remain for an hour in the past, or shorter. The most a witch or wizard could safely remain was five hours.

They had to be extremely careful about this, she decided. It wouldn't do to mess up multiple times, no better to do it right the first time. If they only had one chance to travel back, where was the battle most in need of their assistance? Was there some good that they could do today? If, that is to say, Hermione was considering this at all.

"You have that look," Not observed, "The one you got in class when you were deeply considering something."

"This is dangerous," Hermione said simply, covering the time-turner in her hands.

"Aye," Not agreed.

"Precise."

"Yep."

"I'm not sure what it would do, though," Hermione finally concluded with a sad sigh. She remembered the whole confusion at the end of her third year. Although Buckbeack had been put to death, and they'd gone back to save him, he'd always been saved and Sirius had always been freed. She'd saved herself from Lupin and Harry had seen himself with the patronus, "There's nothing I can think of that wouldn't irreparably shift the timeline."

"Well, that is the goal," Nott said casually, as though discussing a class theoretical, causing Hermione to nearly drop the time-turner, "Hermione, my plan is to go back and really fix it. Give the timeline a good old shake-out. Change everything."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh! So what do you think?
> 
> My faceclaim for Theo, btw, is Alvaro Rico. He's an actor I found through the Brazil Netflix show 'Elite', which I'm seriously obsessed with. In fact, MOST of the characters on that show, I hardcore associate with Harry Potter characters. There is even (basically) a Dramione-esque ship on that show. Basically what I'm saying is that if you need something to binge, binge this and when you're watching Polo, just know that in my heart of hearts he's what I will always imagine Theo to look like :)
> 
> But since he's such an obscure character, what are your guy's face claims or fancasts for him? I'm interested to know! Drop a review and I'll see you next week.


	6. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Friday the 13th AND a full moon! I felt like I had to update (but, more on that at the bottom).
> 
> Now that we're getting into the actual time-turner stuff, I wanna just put a...a...disclaimer out there? This is just for fun and I am in no way an expert on space-time continuums or time travel theory or anything, so like, just keep that in mind I suppose? You know, take things with a grain of salt and know it's a plot device and just enjoy the story that comes from it!

_January 15th, 2002_

Hermione's jaw hung agape.

"You're barmy!" She finally sputtered, "Crazy! Totally off the rails! You…" She shook a finger at him, "My God, I thought you had an actual solution. Turns out, you're just suicidal and insane."

"That's not nice," Nott crossed his arms, huffing, "I've thought this all out. I've basically been holed up working this out for the last six months. I've had a lot of time to think."

"Bad things happen to witches and wizards who meddle with time," Hermione reminded him, though she personally thought she shouldn't need to.

"Bad things have already happened here," Nott finally snapped, his voice raising an octave, "Worse things will happen, I guarantee it!"

"But, the time-line!"

"Any change is better than this," Nott snarled, his eyes ablaze, "You are going day-to-day, like a bug, waiting to be squashed. It's not living, it's just existing. And this existence sucks. The world is fucked, He's never going to be stopped, and England is nearly on fire. There's nothing left for us here. This timeline that we're in currently is ruined."

Hermione's lip quivered, "Even if that's true, you can only go back a couple of hours. A few hours ago...it won't make a difference." The best option to her would have been to save Ron, but if he died two days ago, that was useless. Maybe they could save Bill, that is if he was in need of assistance? However, was Bill really the most important piece of the remaining Order?

"I've fixed that," Nott's anger left him swiftly, his shoulders hunching. It was now she truly saw the weight of this war on him as well. He'd started to become handsome near the end of their sixth year, but now he had a few gray hairs and his whole posture looked eons older than he was, "We can go back as far as we need."

"So what?" Hermione whispered, "We go back and kill Tom Riddle in his crib? Then we pop back and see what's happened, possibly unending ourselves. Mintumble-,"

"I know what happened to her. And no, something else would just rise up in His place. To stabilize the timeline, I suggest something...closer to home. 1996."

Hermione's head swam, "What point in that year would be significant enough to...I'm lost." She admitted, something she rarely owned up to. Still, the look on Nott's face made a few connections, "As far as I know, time-turners take you back, not forward. That's a long time for us to wait to come back to. And what happens to our past selves from 1996?"

Nott was silent. He chewed on his lip, giving an apologetic shrug.

"You're not coming back. Not really. Not...not like we'd just step into the roles of where we left." She whispered. Nott ran his tongue over the top of his teeth, nodding quietly at her assertion.

"Hopefully, our past selves live damn good lives. But we'll be different. I don't think we'll really be Theo and Hermione anymore." He pointed out with a choked whisper, "I'm not sure we are now."

She understood, sort of. The idealized versions of themselves had been bright, young, and without so much strife. It had been shed from them, left somewhere back at Hogwarts. The people that stood in the empty factory now were closer to strangers. Hermione would not have considered killing anyone and Nott would not be joining the side of good, yet here these two figures were, so who were they?

"And, the whole issue of only remaining a few hours? Otherwise, we might be slingshot back and dissolve upon arrival," Hermione reminded him swiftly.

"I've fixed that glitch on time-turners too. You can stay as long as you need. It won't be a suicide mission. I won't just spontaneously die after being there too long. We should be able to live out our lives."

"You seem so positive," Hermione rubbed her arms, slumping down on a creaking table, looking at him.

"Hermione, I have perfected this." Nott gingerly took the time-turner from her hands, holding it like it was pure gold. Metaphorically, it was.

"Okay," Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, "Pretend I believe you. It's not as simple as just going back and offing Him right away. He has-,"

"Horcruxes. I know."

Nott's lip twitched into a smirk. He came to sit by Hermione on the table, staring at her closely. Probably to see if she was still with him. She was, albeit only barely. This whole plan sounded convoluted and reaching, but alas, they had few other options.

"You Gryffindors are so...run right at the problem. Jump in headfirst. Slytherins are more working quietly, behind it all."

"I'm assuming you have a very 'Slytherin' plan, then?"

"Of sorts." Nott confirmed, "I know that 1996 is when He started to truly show how crazy He'd become and many started to question the cause, about their own survival, about all of it. If you tried to leave, you'd be killed, no question. More or less because there never was a good way for them to defect. Not everyone wanted to be on your side, the side that ran headfirst into walls. Not everyone was as sure about following a maniac anymore, though."

"You want to go back and save a bunch of Death Eaters from their poor choices?" Hermione sniffed, feeling bile rise in her throat, "Typical."

"Not just Death Eaters. Everyone," Nott's eyes swam with fire, "Imagine if we could save Anthony. The Creevy brothers. All the children that He killed last year. Imagine if we could get them out before any danger ever started. And, if He starts to lose followers rapidly, if the infrastructure is broken, it's only easier for us to take him down for good. Sometimes, the best thing some of those Death Eaters can do for the war is to vanish."

"You mean to kill-,"

"Merlin, no!" Nott looked taken aback, "Hide them. Keep their families safe. The Dark Lord's favorite punishment is killing kids of failures, don't you know? Draco got off easy with The Mark as a punishment. His one oversight is that He doesn't understand love, doesn't understand the lengths that people will go for their families. I'm not saying most of the Death Eaters are winners, I'm not even claiming most of them are sane or in the right mind. I am saying that some really important ones do love their wives, kids, siblings, and parents though, and that's stronger than their loyalty to Him. There are some that also probably don't want to die."

"So you…" Hermione licked her lips, "You want us to set up some sort of hiding system?"

"I know how to deactivate the Dark Mark, or at least put a stasis on it so that He can't track them and kill them. While your Order fights the war face-to-face, we save and hide. We search for the Horcruxes, or nudge your past self along."

"If we're going back, shouldn't I be with the Order? Now that I have all this information? If we're going to just say 'fuck it' to the timeline anyway," She added dryly, a little upset. This was radical.

"Your issue was, and still is, that you are Hermione Granger. You're too much of a threat to be out in the open. Your brain is better than your fighting arm, and you know it. You'd be much better served behind the scenes, away from the main fight, helping with this and making potion stocks or researching or _literally_ anything else."

Hermione was silent. She knew it; there was a reason she was always watching her back. A prize like the Gryffindor Golden Girl was almost as good as Ron and Harry. Now that her best friends were gone, the hunt for her in this world would only increase. She'd have to try that much harder to not die and she is already giving it all she had. She feared she had little left.

"We pose as Muggles, shuffling them into the Muggle world, like...oh, I think they call it Witness Protection Program. I've been researching," Nott said.

Hermione snorted, "You'd willingly live as a muggle?"

"Yes. If it wins this, if we don't end up here again?" he motioned to the factory, but Hermione gathered he meant more, "Without question. Those that we help, we keep their wands while they live as muggles. Once He's defeated, if people want to come back, we return them."

"You think a bunch of Death Eaters are going to just skip into the Muggle world, the world of people they want to destroy?" Hermione said, highly skeptical.

"Not everyone can be saved. We kill those that we know wouldn't, but you'd be surprised how many would do uncharacteristic things when given the right motivation," He said. At Hermione's horrified face, he scoffed, "You and your morals. Fine, I'll do the killing. I don't mind it."

There was something dark about the way he said that, but Hermione couldn't focus on this. Not right now.

"But what if you, your past self, just makes more time-turners and they reverse everything as it is?"

"Easy. Lucius didn't even think to ask us until nine months ago. First thing I do is go and kill my dad- trust me, I'll fucking enjoy that- and burn the grimoire. Without that knowledge, younger me will have no way to even conceive how to start." He said, this part of the plan apparently very concrete.

"How do we live without ourselves out there, in the same time-line, then?" Hermione gnawed her lip.

"Well, disguises for one. For two...we just stay away?"

"That's your grand plan?" She sighed.

"Look, it will work." Nott said firmly, "You weren't my first choice for this, trust me."

Hermione glared, "Gee, thanks."

"I wouldn't even be bothering you. Draco and I were supposed to pull this off together. But he's…" Nott's jaw clenched, then twitched. His whole body shook, "That's not an option." His whole voice sounded just broken. A chill raised Hermione's hair on her arm. Draco was dead. She just knew it from his tone. She didn't mourn him, but she did feel sorry. A glimmer of compassion eeking out, thinking that twenty-two was far too young an age for anyone to die.

"Oh," Hermione whispered, but her voice was drowned out in the emptiness of the factory.

"And you're still here and despite it all, you're intelligent. You're also willing to do almost anything to win this, aren't you?" Nott continued, "I could do it alone, but it would be easier with two. I'm offering you a way out. You stay here, you maybe survive six months more. Or, we could just turn back the clock and live out our time in a place without all of this."

"This is a lot to consider," Hermione pressed her temples, "Even if I ignore the fact that once again, you're supposed to be dead, this is still a lot to take in."

"Time's ticking, Granger."

Hermione shot him a half-withering, half-amused look, "Funny, I thought that time was what we had an abundance of now." Nott almost smiled. She realized she'd never seen him fully smile, not even at Hogwarts. It was a strange realization.

The time-turner was in Theo's palm. As though reading her mind, he held it out to her. She looked at it. She really looked at it.

"If I say yes, tell me specifics. When do we go- the date in the past and the date currently." She said, her mind switching over to 'analyzing Hermione'. She could feel her mind perk up at this twister, something even in the theoretical an intriguing concept.

"From here? Whenever you want. I have all the preparations made. If you were comfortable, we could go literally now." He said, holding out his hand. Hermione reluctantly handed him back his time-turner.

"And where do we go to the past?"

"I was thinking we drop off to September 3rd. We'll- our other selves- be at school and we can contact the Order- if we feel the burning urge- without bumping into our past selves. I mean, if people start vanishing without question, there will be an inquiry. If we at least get Dumbledore," Nott made a face like he sucked a lemon, but continued, "In on it, it will be easier."

"You want us to spin it," Hermione did the calculations in her head swiftly, "Upwards of 43,000 hours back?" Her hand cramped just thinking about that. It was impossible. No way they could be that precise.

Nott let out a bark of laughter. He held up the charm, his fingers lightly tracing over the three knobs on it, "I never made this with the intention to go back merely hours." He said, "Years, months, days," He explained, touching each knob. Hermione's previous, and the time-turners before her, had a knob for hour, minute, and seconds respectively.

"Ah." Yes, that did seem more reasonable.

"So?"

"Just...give me a moment," Hermione said, standing up. She purposely walked behind a divider of the wall, distancing herself from Nott. She could hear him looking at her potions as she slid down, her whole body shaking.

Nott had been generous to guess that she would survive six more months here. If starvation alone didn't off her, the Death Eaters surely would. Each day she made it she considered that she was living on one more rotation of borrowed time. If she was being honest, totally honest, she was facing some painful truths; the war was all but won by the dark side, her friends were as good as dead if they weren't already, and Hermione's options were dwindling. She herself had more or less a couple of weeks like this. Less if anyone found Harry's body. If they knew Harry was dead, it would be a frenzy. Death Eaters would go wild. They would be emboldened, and things would get worse.

Hermione's parents were in Australia, and unless things got better- which was unlikely- they would remain there. She wasn't losing them. Harry and Ron, Ginny, Luna, Neville...they were already dead. All of her best friends were gone in this time.

She did have a passing regret to those still alive, those that would wonder why she just vanished. Though, hopefully, they'd change things so that they wouldn't feel this pain.

In theory, one of two things would occur. Their ripples would change out, shifting this current timeline so irreparably that it wasn't even a shadow of what it was right now. Or, their actions would cause a buckle and spawn a secondary time-line, another parallel universe. Either way, she wouldn't be coming back to this current one and Theo was mostly right...things had to only be better. She literally could not imagine anything worse. They would be prepared. They would be methodical. They would take Voldemort down from the inside, so quietly and so slowly that he wouldn't know what was happening until it was too late.

They'd save those that were culled, those that were innocent. They'd protect those that needed protection. They would devote all of themselves to this cause. Hermione wouldn't be bogged down by other distractions, such as love or friendship or school. She was carving all those away from herself, devoting every inch of her body and mind to pull this off. She was in that unique position, as was Nott now, that there was nothing stopping them from working tirelessly to win.

When she returned to Nott, the look on her face must have said it all.

"I don't have much to take with me that's not here," Hermione raised her bag, "But I'd like to leave something behind for...the others." She whispered. It may not matter as soon as they popped away, but she couldn't imagine just leaving without a trace.

"Fine." Nott gave a soft nod.

They trekked back to the safe-house in silence. The food had been untouched, unsurprisingly. Only a few hours had eclipsed since Hermione had left.

She had bottled the Potions nearest to completion, transferred those that were still boiling. With Theo's help, she'd written out the rest of the instructions.

Then, at the very bottom of the note, a simple apology.

_I'm going to make things right. I'm sorry._

She left it at that. Her fingers wanted to pour out everything, the whole plot, but it seemed like an insurmountable task. Even so, she doubted Nott would agree with her. Theo, she corrected. They were tied to this task for better or worse, therefore she might as well get used to calling him by his first name.

Outside, in the forests around them, Theo's breath caught the air and crystalized above them. His face was reddened by the coolness, his hair mussed by the strong winds. He was still wearing his long navy blue wool jacket, something he lifted to offer Hermione protection from the cold. It wasn't even a thought, it was near instinctual on his part, which somehow eased her worries more than any words he could have said. She always had appreciated actions over empty promises.

His kindness was something that, any other time, she would have mused on. Now, she took it at face value, accepting. She'd played through the possibility this was all fake, that this would lead to her death, that it was a trap and she'd dismissed it. Something about his cerulean eyes told her the truth, something about the softness in his expression convinced her he meant no harm, and something about the tightness of his jaw told her of his loyalty to the cause- and now, by extension, her too.

Pressed close to Theo under his cloak, Hermione looked up at the sky. It was silly. The stars that she was going to see were going to be the exact same, nothing would be changed. Perhaps this is why she did it. She was about to uproot everything she knew, there had to be some constants remaining, or she'd go mad for sure.

Theo allowed her a few silent moments. Pausing to allow her to photograph this moment in her memory was more than acceptable. Maybe he'd written off this world long before, or may he too was taking in everything around him. Maybe he was mourning everything he was about to leave, as meager as it was.

"Are you ready?" His voice didn't startle her.

For what, exactly, she wondered?

Was she ready to leave behind this time and place, and all those still alive, on the faintest of wishes that this may work? On the off-chance things could go horribly wrong and she'd still die?

Was she ready to go and grasp the timeline like a rope and shake it out, something she'd been warned explicitly not to do? Was she ready to test his invention with the hope it worked?

Was she ready to join into this partnership with Theodore Nott, the singular person who she would be tied to from here on out, someone she didn't think about until this day? Someone who, if she'd met him yesterday or a year ago, would have been tempted to kill?

Was she ready to shed her current face and name and live like a Muggle? To change the past in the hopes of changing the future?

Was she ready for any of that?

Well, she wasn't a Gryffindor for nothing.

"I am."

Her voice was clear and did not waver.

Theo wrapped the chain around both of their necks, but still kept Hermione under the cloak with him. He reached out his palm and when Hermione reached her tiny hand out, he led it to the left side of the turner. He covered her hand with his, his other hand set to turn the dials. With Harry, she hadn't needed to be touching him. The chain was just required to be around them. They'd only been going back three hours, though. It might be for the best that they were touching on this journey, so neither got left anywhere they weren't supposed to.

They counted the spins out loud together.

Five years back.

Four months back.

Twelve days back.

Twenty-one spins of the time turner that was about to change everything.

As Theo finished the last turn on the day's hand, he flicked the turner, setting it into motion.

Hermione pressed close to Theo, holding her breath as the golden warmth of the turner bathed the travelers. She felt Theo move his arms so that she was between them, pulling her against him. She could feel the heavy thumping of his heart, fast and uneasy. She was shaking or maybe he was. It might have been both of them. The sheer brilliance of the idea of time, the essence of doled out moments, collected them up, always just a little bit too warm, a smidgen too hot, a warning. As brilliant as the sun. Just like that blazing star, it could hurt. Just like playing with time.

And they, perhaps foolishly, were Icarus.

This could all fail, she realized with panic the moment that she felt her being fizzle into nothingness and everything. This could go upside down and sideways.

But she'd hate herself forever if she never even tried.

Just as suddenly as the warmth embraced them, it vanished, leaving them in a near-identical forest. Except, the snow was gone, the leaves were green, and there was no safe-house located twenty yards behind them.

"Do you think we did it?" Hermione spoke first, unsure and nervous.

Theodore tucked the time-turner into a pocket, sealing it away.

"I dunno." He said, "Nearest town is back where your hideout was."

They were undoubtedly in a different season. Within just a few minutes of walking, both shed their winter items, wrapping the bundled fabrics around their arms. Neither dared apparate, for fear this was only a year or so back and it would be traced immediately.

They walked in relative silence, only speaking to confirm directions. Both were too nervous to do much else.

"We might have done it," Theo breathed out as they came across the abandoned factory. Except, now, it was hardly abandoned. They watched from the safety of the tree line as cars drove in and out through the parking lot and workers bustled around to load cars and parts for machinery. The once silent hideaway was now a cacophony of talking voices, squealing tires, whistling and screeching metal gears, and beeping alarms. The creaky door that Hermione had slipped through was a firm-looking iron that couldn't have been budged if she wanted to. The area in the fence she'd peeled back to enter did not exist yet. The auxiliary building she'd found some food in hadn't even been built yet.

The tiny town that the factory sat up against was only another half an hour away by foot. She didn't even consider that her feet should have hurt after walking so far in the short span of two days. She was too excited, every part of her body waking up as each step brought her closer to confirmation of what she hoped.

Hermione led Theo confidently to a convenience store, the closest location she knew that would be selling the local paper. The last time she'd been here, the windows had been broken in and she'd cut her hand on a shard of glass while trying to find some muggle Advil for a pounding headache. She also recalled that she'd found a half-crushed package of Oreos behind the counter, and that had been the last time she'd eaten anything remotely enjoyable.

She got a couple of weird looks; with her war-torn attire, she must look very out of place. Even Theo, wearing wizard robes, looked less out of place with his well-groomed appearance.

Hermione couldn't be prompted to care, not yet.

She didn't know what she'd do if they hadn't managed their first task. She wasn't sure her heart could take that, nor her resolve.

She herded Theo to a newspaper stand, pressing her fingers against the glass. As she trailed her fingers down the top of the page to find the date, it left a dirty and smudgy imprint behind. Theo was inches behind her, close enough so that his breath tickled her ear.

_September 3rd, 1996_

For as confident as Theo had been about this, seeing the date caused him to falter, his lips parted and eyes wide. Both he and Hermione stood for a moment in disbelief, until something snapped inside both of them. At the same moment, they turned to each other, eyes bright as their conviction to the cause and their own abilities were bolstered. Theo grasped Hermione's face, pulling her up to kiss him, chaste and modest. He had to bend over a bit and Hermione stood on the tips of her toes. She held the kiss for a couple of seconds, basking in sheer relief. The feelings shared between them was light and bubbly and hopeful. Laughing as she pulled back, she saw Theo grin with the most abandon that she'd spotted on his face yet. Hermione was so excited that she didn't even mind that he'd done that, grasping onto his wrists.

"Theodore, we did it! We're here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, did anyone think that they would go back to 1996? It's a weird year, I know, which is why I picked it! If you were totally like 'wow, I didn't see that coming' where did you THINK they were going to go back to instead?
> 
> The reason I'm updating on Friday, not just because of the alignment of the stars and all, is because this story (as you may have realized) usually updates weekly. I'm now moving the day I update to. I would have rather given you all a chapter early and updated within 5 days than making you wait until NEXT Friday. So, from here on out, Updates will be Friday!
> 
> If you like this, drop a review!


	7. IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unsurprisingly, almost no one guessed that they'd land back in 1996. A bunch of people thought it would be 1991 or the 70s, which is I feel where most time-travel stories take you (or, the 40s), so I wanted to do something a little different hehe

_September 3rd, 1996_

She pulled Theo into a hug, half-way between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. It was almost unbelievable that only about six years in the past could have such a huge difference, as much as it was startling how quickly everything had gone downhill.

This gave her a sense of purpose and a feeling that they could change things. If it went south so quickly, couldn't it go their way for them in as little amount of time? They just had to be methodical about it all.

They had a timeline. They had a plan. They were going to make things better.

"Granger, no offense, but we're not exactly being inconspicuous." Theo mumbled against her knotted hair, pulled into a ponytail she wasn't sure if she could ever undo. It had been pulled up like this for weeks.

"Right, yes," Hermione said, blinking. They were pretty far away from Hogwarts, or from any wizards or witches who may recognize them for that matter, but that didn't mean that they should stop being cautious. She pulled back, staring at Theo's face, and then past him to the sunset, "It seems to be nearly 5pm. A little late to call on the Order. Plus, we should...I should," She corrected, looking down, "Find some more reasonable and cleaner clothes." Her clothes she was dressed in was for utility, not for fashion or day-to-day wear. It wasn't anything she ever wanted to set her eyes on again. If she could burn this set of items, she would.

Theo gave a nod of agreement, pulling out to her grand surprise, a wad of Muggle money.

"Will this be enough?"

She choked on her answer a bit. It would have been enough to buy a whole new wardrobe that could fill a closet as large as the Gryffindor girl's dormitory. As it was, Hermione hardly cared about name brands or the most luxurious items. She would take comfort and practicality any day.

"There's a hotel right up the street." Hermione recalled from walking this town, a town that in about four years would be razed by Death Eaters. She tried not to get choked up as she watched the people passing out of the corner of her eye, knowing the awful deaths most of them had coming, unless they fixed it. It was like watching ghosts past by her.

She admitted to herself that this, bringing up the hotel, was a small test. If Theo couldn't spend a single night in a Muggle hotel, and argued to move to a Wizarding one instead, then there was no way he could live as a fake Muggle for the remainder of this mission.

She shouldn't have doubted him, for he agreed without a moment's hesitation. She tried not to look shocked.

While Theo went and booked them a room, Hermione went shopping. She decided to get a couple items. She couldn't recall the last time she'd had extra of clothing, more than one pair of underwear at a time, for example. She could have gone crazy with the money Theo had curled into her hand. She did splurge for some extra-comfortable feeling things, such as a sweater that was the softest thing she'd ever touched, but still came out of the store without making so much as a dent in her proverbial wallet. Four tops, three bras, seven pairs of underwear, two pants, one sweater, and one coat. Her shoes and socks were actually fine for the time being, and a part of Hermione did not want to throw away every item from the future. The rest of it could go straight in a bin.

She stopped off at the convenience store too, grabbing a couple necessities, before making her way to the location she'd pointed out to Theo before parting ways. She stood in front of the shampoos and conditioners for a long while, knowing that the hotel's meager offerings would be far too little. She was a bit overwhelmed to have choices about the scent of it or the kind. Before, Susan had been the one to dol out non-food items and she was pleased to be handed any sort of soap. That was, before Susan was killed. Around then was when it became more difficult to find a time or a place to bathe, so it seemed like it didn't matter as much.

"Start with scents you used to like?" Hermione murmured out loud to herself, squinting as she stared at the presentation of brightly colored plastic caps. Okay, well, what had been her favorite smells?

Parchment, but they didn't really sell that in hair product form.

Freshly-cut grass, modeled after her crush on Ron, but even considering a similar scent like 'Fresh Rain' just made her sad.

Then there was Spearmint, which she knew came from her parents and their dental regimes they'd passed onto her. The smell made her nauseous now, and a little faint, after having to dig through the remains of her family's old dental shop with the corpses of former employees as the Death Eaters no doubt searched for her family. Even sniffing the mint-scented green one made her vision swim and her eyes tear up.

She finally settled on a fruity strawberry smell, but only because of the price and because the bottle wasn't too big. She didn't know how long they'd be in the hotel and didn't want to over-buy.

The other things she needed (deodorant, razors, specifically cinnamon toothpaste and a toothbrush, hairbrush, hair elastics, and a pair of scissors) were far less daunting to pick. The person ringing her up glanced her appearance up and down but only pressed his lips into a thin line, choosing not to say anything.

She wondered how Theo had faired on his journey. Theo, at the time of their parting, had almost seemed unsure about separating but hadn't pressed it. She wondered if it was for her or for his benefit he wanted to stay close together?

Now, Theo lounged in a lobby chair, having ordered what looked like a Scotch-neat- from the bar. Hermione understood this. She would have gone for a Firewhiskey or a cheap, sweet wine had someone offered. Now that the adrenaline from completing step one had begun to wear off, the mammoth task ahead of them was beginning to press upon her shoulders. All the worries, concerns, and the feeling that they had to go forward was stifling.

He was completely zoned out, his eyes a thousand miles away, maybe making lists or running through theories in his mind. It gave her the chance to approach and look at him, for what felt like it was the first time.

He was unquestionably handsome. Time had sharpened his cheekbones and shaved away any remainder of baby fat he'd had at Hogwarts. The skinny, gangliness he'd once inhabited now fit him, leaving him tall and thin. His hair, a dark brown shade, was parted to the side and his face was currently free of any subtle, but she knew from placing her hands upon his cheeks that he had the ability to grow a beard. He might look dashing with one, she thought. His eyes, which she had never thought about, was the clearest shade of blue-green, so similar to all those postcards of the ocean that Hermione would see from places like Hawaii or Fiji. There was a confidence in the way he held himself, something from growing up a pure-blooded wizard, even as he dazed off into the distance, he didn't seem to look uncomfortable sitting in a Muggle hotel. It was a ritzy sort of place, but Theo seemed like he belonged there.

Pausing behind a column, Hermione considered the brief kiss that had happened less than an hour ago.

She chalked it up to a couple of very explainable things. One; both of them had been isolated for nearly a year on their own, so they both sought that tactile touch. She noticed that Theo had kept her close since giving his offer, such as his hand on her shoulder or pressing her against him in a non-sexual way. It was only natural they craved another human, someone to share with. Two; as partners, they would simply have to get used to each other. Sure, going straight for the kiss was bold and unconventional, but now even grabbing her hand would seem calm and tame in comparison. Three; he was happy. She could feel the joy about their minor success too.

Not minor, no, she corrected. This was phenomenal. His emotions had just overcome him, as they had to Hermione. This, mixed with the above two, were three well-reasoned justifications for this kiss.

The kiss that Hermione had not minded at all.

"You got it?" Hermione forced herself up to him. It would be worse if he snuck up on her and her musings while she looked like a loon, hiding behind the post and just oogling him. Theo jumped in the seat as she approached, snapping his expression toward her.

Theo threw her the metal key with an embroidered '314' attached. His silence was something she could accept. Theo had always been the quiet type, and now it seemed he'd receded a bit into this role.

It was a standard room with two beds. Hermione dropped her bags into the bathroom immediately, locking the door.

Her transformation, or what felt more like a rebirth, took nearly two and a half hours. Before, she would have scoffed at any girl, such as Lavender, who spent so long getting ready. It wasn't even all pragmatic. Hermione had filled the tub with scented bubbles and just soaked in it for the longest times, until her fingers pruned and her skin burned. She stayed in the water until it turned tepid, scrubbing at her skin with a forcefulness that was near bruising.

After she'd washed the rim of the tub, now filthy with the dirt she'd brought from 2002, she had tackled her hair. She had used some fancy leave-in conditioner that Ginny had once raved about, allowing it to seep into her roots. The strawberry scent was a tad too acrid and fake, but it didn't bother her too much. When she'd attacked her hair with a comb and scissors to cut away parts that were unsalvageable, her hair nearly looked normal. Normal to her school years, at least, where it wasn't grimy and dirty as much as it was simply frizzy and thick.

Most of her hair was too far gone to save, even when she massaged it with the conditioner. It was too frizzy, too twisted and matted and simply had to go. The wastebasket was starting to resemble small furry dog.

By the time she was finished, her hair was laying slightly below her shoulders. She couldn't recall when it had ever been so short. She patted the ends of it, wondering if she looked good like this. Which, in all, was a stupid consideration.

With a slight tilt of her head to the bathroom door, she wondered what Theo would say. Would he notice how short her hair had become? Did she care what his opinion was? She was unsure.

Right at the end, she pulled out a half-empty can of Sleekeazy's. It had been Ginny's, thrown to her the last time they'd crossed paths. She was meant to return it to Ginny. She hadn't ever gotten the chance.

She dabbed a little on her fingers, working it through her hair and trying to keep her burning eyes from crying.

Using this made her whole chest clench. Ginny was alive right now, starting off her fifth year. Hermione wouldn't be able to talk to her dearest female companion, but she could see her, confirm that she was indeed okay. She could banish the memory of Ginny choking on her own blood in front of Hermione as she bled out on the concrete from her mind forever. She would save everyone before Ginny died in her timeline on March 15th, 2000.

Hermione winced as she pulled on her new, clean clothes. She hadn't realized how many places she was bruised and hurting until she had time to think about it, like now. She'd have to find a salve for those.

Theo, in the time she'd been absent, had dumped the contents of his bag onto his bed. He must have shrunk them down or had an undetectable extension charm, because what lay in front of him was comical in comparison to the tininess of the satchel. She mentally preened, pleased to see that her traveling companion was intelligent.

But she knew this. Anyone who could create a time-turner was no dunce.

"Feel more human?" Theo asked without looking over his shoulder as Hermione exited the bathroom.

"Alive, even," Hermione replied back with a flat, joking tone. He glanced at her, but his face was still twisted into a frown.

"Order anything you want from the Room Service. Don't worry about cost. You need to start eating right again."

Usually, Hermione would have bristled at the demanding edge, but she could hardly disagree. She moved to curl up on her bed, but found herself unable to focus on food right then. She was far more interested in Theo's items from the future.

The first thing Hermione noticed was the money. Noticed wasn't quite the right word, tripped was more accurate. The first thing Hermione did as she traversed the space between the two queen beds was trip over the stack of cash he'd laid out.

"Holy mother of…" She mumbled, kneeling to start to count out the gold and bills. Half was in galleons, half was in Muggle Pounds.

"Draco and I were the last of both of our houses. We cleaned out our vaults before I faked my death. Draco used a fake galleon and a multiplying charm to make it seem to Him that it was still there, if any suspicion arose." Theo said simply, "We wanted to be well-prepared."

"This is more than well prepared. This is enough to make us near billionaires."

Theo smirked, "The Notts and the Malfoys were two of the wealthiest families in the entire Wizarding world. Certainly in Great Britain. Had Bellatrix bit the dust, Draco could have claimed the Black family fortune too. Pity."

Hermione was pretty sure she'd never seen so much money in her life. This was one less thing for them to worry themselves with.

Four wands also lay out on the bed, lined up in a row. Draco's, Theo's, Hermione's, and the snatcher's that Hermione had been using.

"We'll have to get new wands," Theo said, watching her gaze flicker to them, "Having two identical wands in the same place," He shook his head, "They won't work right. The magic will feel divided and we'll only be able to do things half as well. And, our other selves at Hogwarts will notice right away. That could be dicey to explain."

"Right, of course." As sound as that was, a part of Hermione mourned the loss of her beloved wand. The one she'd been so excited to use again. Theo had thought of it before her, proving once again how deeply he'd contemplated all of this. In time, Hermione would have come to the same conclusion.

The rest of the items on the bed were all very logical choices; textbooks and grimoires, loads of potion ingredients and three collapsable cauldrons, pre-made potions, and vials with a small pensive.

"For those that don't believe us?" She guessed.

"I mean, a witch comes up to you and says in four years the world goes to shit and you'll be eviscerated. Would you actually believe her?" Theo pointed out, "It's not going to be easy to get them to the Muggle world and somewhere safe."

"I know that," Hermione snapped, as though she were the pure-blood that had no clue what the world out there was like, "I'm well aware of our difficulties."

"We need to think of names." Theodore said.

"Surely you and Draco must have had covers." Hermione said easily, "We'll just modify those."

Theo winced, though she wasn't sure why. She thought perhaps it was mentioning Draco.

"It would be better if we came up with one together," He said slowly, "It commits it to memory better and puts us both on the same page. Therefore, it's not just you memorizing something I hand you."

"I'm great at memorization, though," Hermione said. She could admit one of her downfalls was raw creativity. She always envied Dean for having so much of it, Luna too.

"Yeah. I know." He was almost teasing. Or maybe this is how he teased, just more subtle than most, "But this isn't just regurgitating information. You have to live as this person. You are this new person, indefinitely. You can't just turn the switch off. We need to feel like we are these people, inside and out."

"Fine," Hermione sighed, "Maybe we do that tomorrow? I'm getting tired." She said. It had been a very eventual day. She also hadn't slept well in months, years even. This bed was the most comfortable thing in a long while and was calling out to her with a sweet siren song. Theo understood, his expression pinching slightly.

"You okay?"

"Fine. I think I just need some rest." She assured.

"Mhh. Hey, what's a good Muggle town or neighborhood? I just want to keep researching, if that's alright."

Hermione was unused to someone who she didn't have to poke and prod to do their required work. Having someone who just did it, unasked and even with enjoyment was different. She banished her surprise, curling herself under the covers. This wasn't Ron or Harry, this was Theo. She needed to stop comparing him, though her only experience with boys by great lengths was with them. Rather, she needed to throw out everything she thought she knew.

Theo, in a lot of ways, was like a whole different species to her.

"For…?"

"The house we'll have to get, of course. Maybe a town that's half-Wizarding or a town near an all Wizarding one? We're the bridge between the magic folk we get out, so we need accessibility for both. We have enough money for a good neighborhood, obviously, and I won't sacrifice taste or classiness just because we'll be living as Muggles."

Ah there was the pureblood speak she was so used to. She'd been starting to wonder if Theo was the Theo she had been thinking of, the Slytherin that used to hang around Malfoy and snigger at her in classes. You could take the wizard out of the pureblood society, but you couldn't take the pureblood out of the boy, she figured. There was something close to comforting in his disgusted tone.

"Besides," He continued, "A bigger house would be most useful. We might have to house individuals or families for quite some time before moving them on permanently. We don't want them stuffed into a tiny two-bedroom flat, do we? Preferably, their own wing," He added with a derisive snort.

"I-," Hermione faltered. Her own house with her parents had been modest (Merlin, her parents wouldn't be obliviated yet! They were still around!) and fit the three exactly. To live in anything bigger would seem strange to her. Of course, Nott was probably used to a manor house.

"Surrey has a lot of large, nice houses," Hermione finally said, "Or, so I've heard." At least, it was a town where big houses were not unusual to find. There was nothing she could imagine that would draw attention to themselves more than buying the biggest house on the block and making an image of themselves as the wealthiest. No, better to integrate themselves into a money-rich neighborhood already, if this was Theo's master plan.

Hermione wrung out her hair in her hands, realizing she'd forgotten to buy a set of pajamas for herself. Back in the future, she slept in whatever she had been currently wearing. It seemed silly to dirty these new things. Making sure that Theo was well occupied with his pile of items, Hermione slipped herself under the covers. Carefully, with the blanket pulled up to her chin, she disrobed, dropping her new items next to the bed near the wall.

Theo glanced up, gave a quick nod and reached to turn off the overhead lights for her. She tried to relax, but her brain was still hardwired to jump at every turn. She found it incredibly difficult to shut off her worried brain, to ease herself into slumber even though she was exhausted.

A sound of shifting plastic caught her attention. Theo was lifting the telephone to a desk area where he'd begun writing something out. He chewed on his pen cap absently as he did so. He'd always chewed the ends of his quills at Hogwarts. Hermione wasn't sure where this snippet of information came from, she just somehow knew it. To see him fall back into a familiar pattern, even as mundane as it was, eased her. She could be doing this with a stranger. For all intents, Theodore was not. She'd known of him for nearly twelve years, even if she hadn't known him specifically.

The wave of relief washing over her was paused when she noticed him expertly picking up the phone.

"You're using a Muggle telephone," She couldn't help but blurt. Theo nearly dropped the plastic receiver, her words crossing the dim space. She had been sure he'd be fumbling through most of Muggle England, but here he was, looking like he'd used one his entire life.

"I thought you were asleep."

"You...you know how to use one?" She asked, turning herself fully toward the tiny desk, furrowing her eyebrows.

"Yes." He said, as though it was obvious. She waited. After a long sigh, he set the phone back down again. He turned, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned in, hands clasp.

"Draco and I, we studied any Muggle items we were sure to come into contact with regularly. Phones, televisions, microwaves, cars...all sorts. Acquainted ourselves with them, I suppose you could say."

Hermione mentally chewed on his words.

"You and him had a lot of this all figured out, didn't you?" She was dying to ask more about Draco, about how he died and when he died, but she got the feeling Theo wasn't ready to share that. Speaking about Draco without his permission would make him shove up his walls again. It was a touchy subject for him.

"We had been planning this for nearly a year and a half before I contacted you," Theo agreed, his voice hoarse in a way that was close to anguish.

"I know I'm not a perfect replacement…" Hermione began, unsure how she wanted to phrase it. It was an apology, or perhaps just the acknowledgment of losing someone very close. She thought of Ron and Harry and Ginny right off, and then her mind was filled with everyone she'd lost.

"You're Hermione Granger. Perhaps we should have been considering you right from the start. You're too big of a hero to do anything on the front lines. Brain wasted. You're not a warrior, you're the chess-master." Theo scoffed. It wasn't the compliment Hermione had expected, but her heart warmed. She'd often been frustrated with the Order just sending her out on missions like a good little soldier when she knew if they let her pour over maps and charts she could really make a difference.

"But I'm also a Gryffindor," She pointed out, for she had to believe that the Order had done what they thought was right. If she let her doubts invade her mind, she'd be bitter forever.

"Now, we're not anything. We didn't go to Hogwarts. We're Muggles," Theo reminded casually. Even without names and faces that were new and unique, she had to start getting used to this. The idea that she would be leaving behind most of the world she'd come to love. For the greater good, isn't that what Dumbledore always said?

It tasted bitter in her mouth, but for the very first time, she understood exactly what it meant.

Theo leaned back, picking up the phone again.

"Anyway, I'm calling a realtor. See what she can find for us. Surrey would be fantastic, but we'll see. I mean, we said it, muggle-wizard town."

"I only know of a few," Hermione admitted, cheeks red.

"It's the whole box-square paradox thing. All wizard towns are also muggle ones, but not every muggle town also has a wizard's corner. Sans Hogsmeade, but that's a special case. It's useless if it's a big beautiful house and the nearest wizard check-point is at least a floo trip away." Theo said, "Still, I'm positive they'll find us something."

Before he punched the numbers in, he gave one last look to Hermione. His face was soft. His words were kind, "If you need it, there's some Dreamless sleep on my bed. But only if you want."

Hermione curled the blanket around her, sitting up.

"Yes, thanks," She breathed, "For everything so far."

Theo examined her, watched her take the dose with an unreadable expression. He just nodded. Hermione noticed that it wasn't until she'd laid her head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes that he started the first phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So they're here in the past, but there's so much to do and (let's be honest) Hermione is still the half-starved and wide-eyed person from 2002, so she might need a day or two.
> 
> I'm so glad, btw, that some of you are diving into other HP stories I have! I have had some comments on them asking if I've abandoned them and NO I have not! This one I just have A LOT of chapters pre-written (22), whereas the rest of those I'm now to straight up writing them chapter-by-chapter and frankly just have not had time to do creative writing. I'm sure I'll get back to them when I have time and a muse, have no fear!
> 
> Tune in next Friday for: Hermione and Theo try to make identities and have a sorta awkward chat.
> 
> If you would be so kind, this weekend is my birthday, so perhaps leave a review as a gift for me?


	8. V

_Sep 4th, 1996_

The sound of the tub faucet running woke Hermione up.

At first, she was terribly confused as to where she was. She shot upwards, taking in the burgundy-hued room, mind whirling. She hadn't been in a bed this nice in years. Where could she possibly be? Had the Snatchers gotten her, and this was some cruel joke?

And who was in the other room? Had Harry and Ron found her?

Was she dead?

Dreaming?

In limbo?

Mouth filled with cotton, she reached for the water bottle on the bedside table. The fact there was even a water bottle there was startling to her. She was just in her bra and knickers, but they were much cleaner than anything she usually owned. Unless she'd just raided someone's house and they were miraculous her same size, but even those clothes felt lived in. These felt new, straight from packaging, _hers_.

It was as she caught a glimpse of the enormous pile of money on the floor of the room that it call came rushing back to her.

She stiffened, eyes widening. She'd really done it. She'd mettled with time probably too much already, traveled back to 1996. She was actively going to mess with time a lot more, if things went right or if things went wrong. Either way, she was breaking about every rule Dumbledore had ever made her promise she'd uphold.

Why had she agreed to this? The side of Hermione that knew rules existed for a reason, and she tried her best to follow (but sometimes, it was inevitable to break them), was mentally yelling in her mind. The side that had trapped Rita in a jar, made an illegal potion as a second-year, and the side who had cursed Marietta though? That side was proud.

It had to be worth it for the end result, though, right?

Even as she was thinking it, she stiffened, eyes widening in displeasure.

Bloody Merlin, she was starting to sound like a Slytherin! The ends justify the means, that's what Draco or Theo would have probably said. She grimace. Somehow, Theo had connived her into doing something very snake-like, despite all her protests.

She flopped back onto the bed, savoring the softness and warmth of the blankets. She blearily looked at the clock. 9 A.M. Later than she'd gotten to sleep in quite some time. Longest she'd had one section of uninterrupted sleep as well.

Knowing the bathroom would be occupied for a little bit more, she let her lead eyelids slip to closed again and drifted into a gentle slumber.

The next she woke was the bathroom door opening, approximately an hour later, and she knew exactly where she was this time. Still, it felt a little surreal.

She still blinked wearily around, stifling a yawn. Her yawn was cut off as she watched Theo exit the steaming bathroom, a towel precariously tied around his hips as he used a second towel to scrub of the moisture from his hair. She felt her ears blush bright red as he walked around, seemingly indifferent to wearing so little clothing or allowing Hermione to see. Hermione blinked back as she realized she'd been examining his chest with far more interest than polite. He'd always been skinny, and still was, but the fact that he had the beginning of abs was absolutely astounding to her in some way.

She stifled the thought that she wanted to touch them long before it reached her brain, but the urge tingled on her fingers.

As Theo rustled through his own clothes, Hermione took the opportunity to throw her t-shirt back on so she wasn't sitting in just her bra. Theo might be blase about wearing next to nothing, but Hermione couldn't let herself feel the same. Even on the run, she'd attempted to keep a modicum of modesty, whenever she could. She wasn't ready to throw that away just because Theo liked to walk around starkers!

"Sleep well?" Theo asked without looking back at her as he rifled for his own clothes. Before she could answer, he chuckled, "I mean, I know you did. You haven't gotten a chance to have Dreamless Sleep in a long time, takes spellwork. Plus, I doubt you ever felt safe enough to really close your eyes. Probably haven't had a solid sleep in years." And before Hermione could say whatever she meant to say, Theo continued again, "Trust me. I know the feeling."

He turned, his eyes connecting with hers. Maybe he was expecting his admission to make them feel kindred. Instead, something like fury flared in her stomach.

"You know the feeling?" She echoed, dripping with sarcasm, "Oh, well of course! It's not like you spent the last few years living in your fancy manor home in a nice and comfortable bed with house elves waiting on you hand and foot. It's not like you didn't get three meals a day, more if you truly wanted. It's not like you didn't wake up every day to a world going in your direction or that you didn't wake up to hear another friend dead or that you pushed back with everything you had every moment you were alive!" Hermione snarled, and then put her hand over her heart in faux surprise, "Oh wait! You did."

Theo's jaw was locked. His eyes were a raging storm. While they were usually cool, deep waters, right now they resembled a hurricane storming across the sea, upturning ships and sinking victims. He took two strides and somehow cleared the area over to Hermione, leaning down to find himself face-to-face with her.

"You have no idea," He choked out, "What it was like for me. It wasn't easy. It was a fucking nightmare, Granger. I already told you. No one was winning this war except Him. We were all just expendable pawns. I was tortured for the slightest of inconveniences, or just because Bellatrix fucking felt like it. I was asked to tortue innocents, children. I lived each day in terror that I'd stutter out the wrong thing and be killed on the spot or that Draco or Pansy would slip up. Or that we'd track Blaise or Warrington down and I'd have to kill some of my best friends. I was asked to do horrendous, unspeakable things that will probably haunt me forever."

Hermione got right up in his face, not ready to let this subject drop.

"You still made a choice. You followed him. I have little sympathy for you, truly."

Theo gave a dark laugh, "A choice? That's funny. And once again, you're just so incredibly wrong. I was raised on fairy tales of the great Dark Lord, about how you were all the bad guys and he was the hero. When he returned in our fourth year, my father just told me I would be expected to follow and take the Dark Mark after graduation. There was never any asking what I wanted. I could hardly say no."

Hermione crossed her arms, rolling her eyes, "You were a follower for nearly seven years, Theo."

"And if I'd left, I'd probably have been killed. And then I would have never brought you back here," Theo stood back, arms outstretched, "So please, just shut up. I'm trying to make things right. I'm trying to fix this! It's more than anyone else could do! Even Blaise, you got, what? A good little bit of intel and maybe three months before he died? I am giving my life for this, Granger. I am giving up everything!"

"Which is more than I already have!" Hermione snarled back, "I hardly had anything to leave."

"Then you have to understand how hard it was for me. I'm not asking you to throw me a bloody parade, I am asking for understanding. I would rather die a thousand times over than let Him rise to power again."

Hermione examined Theo for a long moment. She felt her anger ebbing away. She'd said her piece. Plus, he was uncharastically genuine about this. Plus, it was more than she'd been able to do. He was the one with the time-turner. He was the one with the immaculately articulated plan. He was the one who sought her out. Hermione, in the last few months, had been close to useless.

"I'm seeing that, but you're not off the hook. Not until you actually do fix it." She said finally, as she couldn't imagine just dropping the shaming because of his well-chosen words.

Theo breathed in, but nodded. He accepted this, or seemed to agree with it.

"Either way," Hermione pressed the balls of her palm into her sockets, "I shouldn't have much Dreamless Sleep. It's highly addictive and loses the potency of it once you drink it for too long."

"You can have it every once and a while," Theo said, sloshing the contents in the vial, "Even if you have the strength of will and take it every other night, you should have about six months before it starts to lose potency and eight months before it's truly addictive."

Hermione was about to ask how he knew that (or, more or less imply he was just throwing out numbers) until she saw his face. This was experience, clearly. She pursed her lips.

"I would say you might be weaned off it by then," Theo said quietly, "But even when safe? Some horrors never stop."

"Well," Hermione's voice quivered, "I guess we'll just have to...to see."

Theo sat down on his bed, clapping his hands, "If you're done accusing me of being a reprehensible human being, we should get to work."

"I'm done," Hermione said dryly, narrowing her eyes. Theo smirked, realizing she was sort of joking. Just a little.

He finished dressing. He wasn't wearing traditional Wizarding clothes, but it also wasn't flagrantly muggle. She had noticed that some of the more high-class Wizard clothes resembled expensive muggle clothes, though any pure-blood would be loathed to admit. He wore a pair of slacks in a charcoal gray color, a white button-down shirt, and a soft looking jumper in a muted brown. In front of the mirror in the bathroom, Hermione watched him neatly part his hair.

"How'd the calls go?" She questioned.

"We're meeting with a realtor in two days." Theo confirmed, "So we can both decide."

"Oh, you're including me in your choice?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. Theo gave an exasperated sigh.

"Well of course, witch. You're living there too."

"I am?" Hermione asked carefully, "Because, well, I wasn't sure. I didn't know if you expected us to both get flats close or apart or...nevermind." Hermione waved a hand, "Together does make sense."

He grabbed a notebook from the table and a pen. He twirled the pen around his fingers. One again, he seemed comfortable with the usage of it, even partial. Quills were fun for the first few days, but after two weeks at Hogwarts, Hermione had missed pens.

"So, our covers." He began in a 'let's get started' sort of tone, "The name I was going to use was 'Sebastian Lioht'."

Hermione blinked at him, "As in...light? From Old Germanic? Isn't that a little on the nose?"

Theo shrugged, "Actually, I got it from 'Ljotr'."

Hermione gave a hum, "Norse, then."

"Nott is Norse for dark. My family's from there, way long ago," Theo raised a dismissive hand, as though it was of little consequence. Not as though he'd chosen a new identity around it, which he had, so it clearly meant more than he let on, "And no comments on my first name?"

"I suppose it's fine as any other name. I mean, a bit long though. You use Theo. What would you prefer to be called as a nickname?"

Theo lounged back in the wheely chair, rolling his shoulders, "Seb, probably by friends and the average person. I imagine you'd be a bit more intimate with me, call me 'Bash'. Or whatever." He added, flicking a finger against the page. He frowned, his expression darkening, "Lyro Lioht. That was..."

Hermione looked down, biting the inside of her cheek. She didn't speak it out loud, but she understood that he was taking the 'Lyra' constellation, which bordered the 'Draco' one and switching the 'a' for an 'o' made it masculine. Theo knew she'd be able to make such a leap herself, or maybe he just wanted to talk. Either way, it seemed like something Hermione shouldn't comment upon. Not in too many terms, really.

Even if Theo had let her use Lyro- err, Lyra- it just didn't seem like something she'd pick. As it was, she doubted Theo would be happy calling her that.

Which was fine. It was Draco's. She could let the dead have something.

"Right," Hermione whispered in a shaky voice, "I guess I'm next then?" She laughed, though she was unsure why.

Theo seemed ready to shake off the reminder of Draco, smiling.

"In general, yes, that is step one of picking new identities." He agreed with a bit more brightness than needed.

Some part of her reminded her brain she was just picking a name. No different than naming a cat or a toad or a dog. The other side of her brain reminded her this would be her new name for the foreseeable future. One rarely got the chance to choose their own identifier, she wasn't going to take this lightly.

She thought about it deeply.

"Emilia, for my first name," Hermione said after a second. She waited to see if Theo would understand, but he just scratched his chin, "Err, it's another name in 'The Winter's Tale'. Shakespeare. It's where my parents found my name. I've always found it pretty."

At another time, in another world, she'd once had a list of things she would name her theoretical children. This name had been somewhere down the list. It felt correct saying it outloud. Which was good. She'd hate to find her own 'name' uncomfortable for the rest of her life.

"Right, cool. You'll have my last name too," Theo said, ripping off a sheet of paper and scrawling. She noticed that across the header 'Sebastian Lioht' and 'Emilia Lioht' were written. She knelt on the bed, reaching down for her pants.

"Siblings?" She asked. They probably could pass, she considered. More than he and Draco could have, that is.

Theo looked down at the paper with great intensity. The apples of his cheeks were slightly pink, enough to catch her attention, since his skin was often pale. He seemed entirely reticent to answer, which made her uneasy at once.

"Theo?" She asked sharply, then, "Bash?" She tried the name out on her tongue. It tasted different than Theo, but similar enough. It was a well-picked choice. She would ruminate on this later, this was just passing thoughts. Right now, she wanted Theo to answer her. Muggle pens weren't as interesting as he was making them out to be, with the way he was playing with it to not catch her eye. Finally, with a sigh, he relented.

"Not siblings, exactly," He coughed, "Not at all, to be honest. Married."

Hermione wasn't sure why she was so surprised, but she was. She sputtered a little, backpedaling. Theo was even redder now.

"Married?" She echoed, "I-we…"

"It's safest," Theo said, looking up to catch her face, "Look, hear me out. Right? So, this house we're going to get, it has to be safe. I mean, we don't want anyone going there that isn't supposed to. No raids, no attacks, nothing. Which means we need to put up wards."

"Yes, I'm following," Hermione said when Theo paused to check to make sure she was still with him. She didn't know how they connected. Hermione had put up many wards on the run, lots under pressure that she thought had been good. She just wanted to point out, no one had ever penetrated her wards while she was with Ron and Harry, well, until the Snatchers…, "We can still put up wards without doing that. Great ones."

Theo coughed, shaking his head.

"Maybe it's because you're muggle-born, but even the best basic ward is laughable compared to more...permanent ones?" He scratched the back of his neck, "As in, blood wards. There's only two types of blood wards; familiar and marital. It's the sort of wards old manors have. The sort that Grimmauld Place had before Sirius bit the bullet. It's seriously difficult to break stuff."

Hermione crossed her arms, "Fine, that might be true," She muttered sourly. She knew, by logic, what he was saying was probably correct. Blood magic was sacred and old and she wished she knew more about it, but short of accessing pure-blood libraries, she wasn't going to. She could come to terms where her own knowledge failed her. She thought of how strong the Weasley's wards had been, and things made more sense. Nine family members adding to the ward? Well, that had to be strong as hell.

"Draco and I were going to set up a familiar ward. We actually became magically bound blood-brothers about a year ago. We were recognized by magic as honest-to-Merlin blood relations. It was also a failsafe, if either of us died before we set the plan in motion, we could clear out each other's Gringotts accounts."

"Okay, so we'll just do a familiar ward then. I don't see why there has to be any sort of marriage," Hermione said, shrugging.

Theo winced, "Okay, maybe my studies of the Muggle world weren't perfect, but isn't it...weird for two twenty-something year old siblings to still be living together? Especially a boy and a girl?"

Hermione pouted. That was rather strange. If they weren't trying to have people question their appearance, that would probably set off some flags. If they had parents, maybe, but alone? Ech, that was a little strange.

"But two brothers? Twins? Bachelors?" Theo waved a hand, "It wouldn't have been."

He had her there too. Hermione wouldn't have batted an eye, nor would have anyone else.

"And we can't just be 'dating', it needs to be 'marriage' for the bonds," Hermione gave a long sigh, "But can't we just tell people we're 'dating' but do a familiar bond?" She said, rubbing her temples.

"If we have the opportunity to do a better ward, why wouldn't we take it?"

He was right. Annoyingly. Again. Theo saw her pout, realizing she was conceding to his plan.

"For the best. Marriage is the stronger of the two anyway." Theo said comfortingly. If she just reminded herself of the pros of this situation, which it seemed Theo had picked up on, it made it better. Just marginally, "Honestly, Draco and I would have done a marriage bond had we not decided that would have also drawn unnecessary attention."

If Hermione thought the Wizarding world was old fashioned sometimes, the muggle world could be so much worse when it came to things like homosexuals. Hermione didn't know of many gay or lesbian wizards, but she was sure that muggles would dislike that more.

"You would have magically and legally married Draco?" Hermione said, realizing the impact of his words.

"We would have done anything for the cause," Theo said, but his voice was tight, like there was more than just that. Hermione did not prod it.

"Okay, fine," She said, "Married." She growled the word through gritted teeth, "You know, it would have been really nice to bring that up possibly before we traveled back through time. Like in the factory, for example." She groused.

"I couldn't take the chance you'd say no," Theo said, fully aware of what he'd cornered her into, "But would you really have said no?"

Hermione inhaled. She doubted it, but she had a right to be a little annoyed.

"Look, if it really wigs you out...I'm not a rapist," He said with a dark tone, "Will you be fine with it. Be honest, Granger."

"I will be," She replied after considering it, "Everything you've said makes perfect sense. The wards, the strength, the need for protection, all of it. I would have probably come to the same conclusions. You're not so bad, also. I could see myself being married to you."

Theo nodded, "Yeah, you too, Hermione. You're for sure not the worst choice out there."

Hermione couldn't help but giggle, "Look at us two romances! We'll give Romeo and Juliet a run for their money."

"Salzar, I hope not. Don't they die in the end?" Theo curled his nose.

"True. At the very best, we'll survive this. And figure out the after later."

Pleased that she was fine with the plan, Theo looked back to his list to re-orient himself.

"You'll still need a maiden name. And a middle." Theo said, relaxing back, "Now that this is agreed."

"You're rather calm about this all." Hermione couldn't help but poke that part of this whole discussion, "You are going to be marrying me. Hermione Granger." And she'd be marrying Theodore Nott.

"Uhm, yeah. Technically, I'll be marrying Emilia Whatever-You're-Last-Name-Is, but semantics I suppose. I've had far more time to come to terms with it." He was started to sketch something. Hermione could tell by the sound of the pen on the paper and the sharp motions, but she couldn't see what, "I've had a couple weeks after Draco died to find you as a replacement. I knew from the moment I found you again that this would be the first step. If you want something more romantic, as you said, it was honestly just you, after Draco. I didn't have anyone else that I thought I could do this with. You were the only other one I was willing to marry."

Maybe because that was romantic, if you looked at it from another angle and Hermione wasn't ready for that yet, but she felt annoyance flare up inside of her. Maybe it was because he almost wanted her to be so calm about this too, so focused on the plan, but this was something she felt was five steps away from the usual. This was extreme. Necessary, but still extreme.

"Well, bully for you!" Hermione threw up her hands, "It's a little much for me."

Theo stopped, "You want to bow out? I asked for honesty before, but I swear to Merlin you'd better really tell me the truth now. Look, I'm not an ass. If you want to walk away from this, I'll let you. I'll probably call you a coward and a deserter and a bunch of other nasty stuff, but this is a lot to give up."

"No, I'm not saying that. I'm not rescinding my agreement," Hermione flexed her fingers, "You haven't even proposed. Not properly."

Theo narrowed her eyes at her like she was crazy, "Will you marry me?" It sounded like an unsure inquiry.

Hermione threw a pillow at him, "You know what I mean. Arse." She muttered. She'd always imagined her wedding to be with someone she was madly in love with. She imagined her parents would be there. She thought she'd wear white, and it would be a party, and things would be better. She didn't imagine it like this. It was silly, but if this was going to happen, she did want some pop and circumstance to it. She deserved at least this. More than effort, she just needed some time. So, she changed the subject, "What are you sketching?"

"Us. The start of it. Part two," Theo turned around the paper he was working on, showing an impressive rendition of Hermione's bone structure, at least in a light sketch, "We decide our new faces."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awe yeeeees, now we're getting somewhere. after some light fighting, of course!
> 
> One of my all-time favorite Theo/Hermione stories is 'Nihli est ab Omni Parte' (if you haven't read this, what are you doing? Go to it now!) but it really plays up the Norse heritage of Theodore, which I just adored, so we're using it here!
> 
> Thank you for all the bday wishes! Still, consider reviewing this week, just 'cause, ya'll!
> 
> See you next week!


	9. VI

_Sep 4th, 1996_

"You're incredible," Hermione couldn't help but let the words tumble out. She'd always been pants at artwork. She could write an essay faster than anyone, but her fingers felt like lead when she even tried to mimic an easy flower on the sides of her paper.

She'd always seen Theo writing furiously with his quill. She'd assumed he was taking diligent notes, but now she wondered if he'd been idly doodling in the margins of his parchment? She had a sudden urge to ask for his school-day drawings, as though that would help her unravel this consistently confusing Slytherin.

"It's not that much, not yet," Theo turned the paper back around, "Draco and I developed a potion. Sort of like the polyjuice, sort of like what it means to be a metamorphmagus. Somewhere in between. Stronger than a charm and less volatile. To change appearances, we draw what we want to look like."

"Well, how does the potion know?"

"Uhm, magic?" Theo said. It seemed he wasn't going to elaborate more, "Each batch lasts one month, so we take it on a set date every month. This is unique, though, because while the entire world will see a flawless different face, we can change it so that we still look the same to each other. It's a failsafe, you see. If someone tries to polyjuice, I'd see your 'fake' face and immediately know it was an imposter. It's also just nice that we'll still be familiar to each other. Less like strangers. We can add in blood of anyone to the potion at any time to allow them to see our true faces too. We'll use this for anyone we smuggle into the muggle world." Theo said. He was nearly bouncing with excitement about this invention. Hermione was bursting with questions about how they'd made it and the trials and everything. She was glad she had a partner with a thirst for knowledge too.

A part of her was almost even disappointed she hadn't been around for the process of making this. Some may be glad the heavy work was already completed, but Hermione would have killed for a chance to help with this extremely complex potion he was describing. There had been a vial on the floor, something a light purple color, something she did not recognize. She had a feeling it was this potion, enough to last them until they could set up a Potion's lab in their house.

"That's brill," Hermione said, crossing the space and sitting next to him. Yes, she was still in her underwear, but considering they were to be married, Hermione knew she'd have to get used to him seeing her in her knickers. Theo was so invested that he didn't even seem to notice her lack of pants. Had it been Ron…

Hermione swallowed. She wasn't going to compare or think those things anymore.

"It took months of really long work," He admitted, "And lots of bad trials. But we did it. I finished it. Wish Draco could have known that it finally did work. All of it? It was his idea." He added, finishing up Hermione's bone structure. He took out a softer pencil and a set of colored pencils as well, "Any thoughts to how you'd like to look?"

Hermione opened her mouth, then frowned, "Well, I suppose first off, straight hair. I always wished it could be as nice-looking as some of the girls at Hogwarts. Girls that just brushed it out a little in the morning and it was set for the day."

Her hair was currently pulled back in a ponytail, though sleep had cut loose some strands. They framed her face, fuzzy on her peripheral vision.

"Really?" Theo frowned. He reached out, tugging a bouncy strand, "Your hair is one of your best features."

"You're joking. You and Draco constantly made fun of this," Hermione pointed out, "As did most of the school."

"The other girls were obviously jealous. Their hair was basic, uninspired. You? Yeah, it was a little unmanageable, but it was different. And me back in school?" He laughed, a little embarrassed, "I was a bit of a prick, no denying it. I just had a lot of emotions and no way to express them properly."

Hermione groaned, "Please don't tell me you were secretly always in love with me."

"Rest assured, Granger, I wasn't," Theo said, much to Hermione's relief, "But I always admired you. You are a hard person to not equally hate and want to be at the same time. Oh, Merlin, how I was always just too far behind you and Draco in marks. I was furious but also so impressed with you. You were a very contradictory person in my life."

Hermione felt a flush of heat. She hadn't even remembered much of Theo, where clearly he'd had deep thoughts about her.

"Fine, I'll keep my hair," Hermione agreed, "But if that's the case, you have to keep your eye color."

Theo squinted, "My eye color, huh?"

"If you get to make demands of me, your eye color is too…" She nearly said beautiful, but stopped herself, "Too unique as well to go to waste. But I think my hair should be a different color. Do you like blondes?" She asked, teasing him before she realized it.

"Better than red-heads or black-haired girls. Blonde is good." He was picking up two or three different shades of honey blonde, marking the colors in the margin for his memory, "Darker brown eyes? Chocolate, almost." It was a question but it wasn't, as he was already picking up the required pencils. Hermione trusted that he knew what would look good and let him. She watched silently as he changed the shape of her cheeks, nose, and jaw, just a little so that her face morphed on the page to someone different. She was silent as he drew in her eyes and her frizzy blonde hair. On the paper, however, her new face looked effortless. It looked posh and expensive and everything she didn't associate her current face with. Her skin was a shade or two darker, like how she appeared when she had returned from France with her parents for the summer. Before her, Theo created Emilia.

And it did look like Emilia. It looked like Emilia had always existed as a person, even if she hadn't really. Which was good. It felt believable.

"I'm going to think on a last name while I get ready for the day." Hermione said, getting up as he finished, "We're not just going to sit in this hotel room, are we?"

"No. Wands." Theo replied absently, already starting on his own, totally engrossed. Hermione couldn't help the smile that crept over her face. She'd be going back to Diagon Alley, somewhere she hadn't been able to go to in months. As mission-oriented as she wanted to remain, her childlike joy burst out and would not be stifled.

XXxxXX

By the time she was ready, Theo's drawing was finished and stashed away. He said he needed to pop down to the front desk to reserve this room awhile longer. While Hermione knew he was capable, she insisted on accompanying him. All the way down, they argued (much like an old married couple, she realized later) about how many more nights they should keep it for. Hermione liked this 'home base' so far and was in the 'at least two more weeks' camp. Theo didn't want to be in the open so long, and was hoping to move into the house as soon as they found it, set up wards, and move all their planning there.

Since it was his galleons, Hermione didn't have much of a leg to stand on and they settled on booking it for five more days.

There was a part of Hermione that knew she was afraid, which was very un-Gryffindor of her. She was afraid of moving into the house because it meant finishing their impending marriage and setting the wards. She acknowledged this and stubbornly refused to psychoanalyze it or attempt to fix it now.

Well, she had five days at the very least to get used to this. She'd start later.

"You could have waited in the room," Theo said, "We have to go back up anyway."

"Yes, but I hate you just making 'announcements' without consulting me!" Hermione pointed out, "Compromise. Ever heard of it?"

"Cohm-pros-miss?" Theo echoed, tapping his chin and butchered the pronunciation like it was a new term, "Naw, don't think so."

Hermione shoved his arm in jest, hating how she nearly smiled. Every time she was frustrated at him, he seemed to be able to make her laugh. Which was inconvenient. Hermione enjoyed her grudges, thank you very much.

"Okay, yeesh, careful," Theo said as he bumped against the hotel wall, "I'm used to doing things alone. I'll make a bigger effort to ask you about things, because as I'm realizing, you stick your nose in everything."

She could have been offended. Instead, she just smiled placidly, "You're damn right I do."

Back in the room, Theo rifled in his bag for a vial of purple potion. He carefully separated it into two cups and poured water into it, swirling it around. Then, he took the two drawings. As he began to dip them into the glasses, and Hermione's eyes bulged, he seemed to remember she wasn't privy to every specific way this potion worked.

"I copied the drawings about 1,000- and I mean that very literally- and they're in my bag. So, no fear. Water dilutes the time. I figured we'd try wearing our faces while we get our wands, just for an hour. Since we haven't added our blood into the potion yet, we'll see the drawings come to life, so don't freak out. We can adjust the drawings if there's something you don't like, but we should settle on something soon." Theo explained as he completely submerged the drawings.

"I never got to see yours."

"You'll see it in a moment," Theo shrugged, and she took this as shyness. The papers dissolved, adding a lilac foam to the top of the glasses. It didn't look inedible, as Polyjuice had. It almost looked like a fruity bar drink Hermione would have ordered with Ginny. He handed one off to Hermione, "Bottoms up?"

Hermione clinked her glass to his. She realized as she lifted it to her lips that she was trusting Theo not to poison her. Yes, to bring her all the way to the past and pay for a room and then kill her was quite a lot of steps and rather unnecessary, but the thought still barreled over her. She dismissed it. She did trust him, as strange as this was.

She had to or else this wouldn't work. She couldn't explain it, but she knew he trusted her too.

The potion tasted faintly of sawdust. She wondered if it was like this because of how watered-down it was or because they'd purposely built it to be so. It wasn't overwhelming or disgusting, but it did sit on the back of her tongue like a film and made it strange to swallow for a couple of moments.

Immediately, her face began to bubble and morph like when she'd taken the Polyjuice of Harry a couple of years ago. Her throat felt dry and she coughed violently a couple of times. Theo was coughing too, covering his mouth.

Then, just as quickly as the uncomfortableness overtook her, it was gone.

She first went to the mirror.

Staring back at her was...not Hermione.

It was, in essence, what Theo had drawn Emilia to look like.

She touched her now-blonde hair, pulling at it. It was a bit more manageable than before, so Theo had done her a solid. Her lips were pouty and her skin was dotted with very light freckles. She patted her cheeks, trying to decide how she felt about that.

She turned, momentarily forgetting Theo would look entirely different, and was taken aback.

"Still handsome?" He asked. The voices were the same. Hermione wondered if this was something they should adjust, as well as height and weight.

"Were you to begin with?"

Theo- err, Bash- gave her a withering look.

"You wound me."

He was completely changed while also subtly changed. It was hard to describe, but perhaps this meant it was a good cover. Unlike Hermione, he had not opted for totally opposing colors. His hair, eyes, and skin were actually similar. The biggest difference was that the shape of his face was different, his hair was a smidgen shorter, and he looked older.

But, now that Hermione thought about it, Emilia looked older than Hermione truly was too.

This made sense in hindsight. A slightly older more established couple was sure to slip into a new house easier. While wizards got married right out of Hogwarts, Muggles wound find that strange. They were just on the cusp of 23. At this age, Muggles were finishing University and just beginning a new job, still more children than not! Yes, it was smart for Theo to have drawn them mid to late twenties as compared to their actual ages.

"Shall we?" Theo asked, offering an arm. Hermione accepted and Theo popped them away.

It had been ages since Hermione had side-apparated. At the Leaky Cauldron on the Muggle side, Hermione retched a bit in a trash can, feeling stupid and angry. She'd become so unfamiliar with so much magic and it hurt her bones. She hated feeling like a Muggle, especially knowing magic was out there, just beyond her grasp.

But, hopefully, not for long.

They slipped in after a pair of twittering witches at the brick wall, both just inhaling the overwhelmingness of their destination on the other side.

Diagon Alley was still as loud and vivacious as she recalled, though not as packed now that students had returned to Hogwarts. The vendors were servicing older wizards and witches, parents who were alone with kids gone for the year. Theo kept having to tug Hermione along, reminding her of their mission, because she became enraptured and distracted by the windows and faces. It felt like she was visiting Diagon Alley for the first time, as she had so many years ago with Professor McGonagall.

In her head, Hermione was mentally tallying all the shops that would be attacked and closed and shopkeepers who would mysteriously 'vanish'. There were some people she was bound determined to save.

Ollivander's still smelled like wand polish and mothballs, something that made Hermione feel like an 11-year-old. There was a certain pattern of visiting Ollivanders; as a new witch or wizard buying your first wand, then later as parents to any children. To come in at this age to buy a wand for herself felt...almost strange. Like a rock in a river, disrupting the flow.

Which was silly. Ron had come here to get a new wand after second year. Sometimes, wands broke. Unfortunate, but true.

Hermione couldn't shake the feeling that they were the proverbial rock in not just a river, but in a bathtub. Something out of place and from somewhere far away, keeping the way from rushing around it easily. Something in the way. Something someone might notice at any moment and discard.

"Easy," Theo seemed to be able to sense her sudden spike of anxiety. His fingers rubbed comfortingly over her knuckles, just like a soon-to-be husband would do. He pulled Hermione over the threshold. She held her breath, like she'd be smited for doing so.

No smiting occurred.

Ollivander didn't appear immediately. In the meantime, Theo half-heartedly shuffled through some empty wand boxes while Hermione rocked on her heels, looking down the endless rows of wands stacked behind the desk.

There was a falling of paper, like a sudden waterfall, as Ollivander came to the front.

"Oh! Pardon me, I didn't think there'd be many people in. I was just affixing a wand core- tricky business, as you know- but never-mind that." He waved a hand, "How can I help you?"

"We're in need of wands." Theo said in a cordial tone, "Our last ones...well, as we were packing for a journey, they didn't quite make it with us."

Close enough to the truth to be memorable, but a lie. Hermione studied him, deciding she was going to allow Theo to take the lead.

"Pity, but these things do happen," Ollivander said with an airy tone, "What were your last wands? Perhaps that would be the best place to begin?"

Hermione saw Theo blanch. Somehow neither had anticipated this question, a very simple and (in hindsight) obvious one. Should they tell him? Ollivander knew every wand he sold by heart. Surely, he'd recognize their specifications, if they said something. Even if they claimed to get it abroad, how quickly would he make the connection? But, if they wanted to save Ollivander from his imprisonment (and Hermione did) wasn't it smart to tell him? Still, they were acting as rogue agents, having not yet contacted anyone from the Order. Merlin, time travel was confusing! She'd known that, but until now…

"Or not," Ollivander said suddenly, sensing their apprehension, "A challenge, then! It will give an old man something to do." He said. Hermione chuckled, her shoulders falling. Theo did not look quite so eased. As he'd soothed her, Hermione came over and took his hand. It felt natural, only when she wasn't thinking about it.

"You first, sir," Ollivander declared. Hermione squeezed Theo's hand, pushing him forward. Getting a wand was a very special process. Hermione was excited to experience someone else's, since she'd been alone when she'd chosen hers.

He handed Theo a slim black wand immediately. If it were similar or different to his original one, Theo made little indication. He was impossible to read when he wanted to draw into himself. Theo gave it a lazy wave, setting a fallen scatterings of paper on fire.

He grimace, "I guess not."

Ollivander took it back, but didn't seem bothered. With a wave of his wand, he doused the fire.

"Right, well, perhaps this?" The next one was short and a tawny brown shade, but this one sparked furiously in Theo's hand, spitting out embers that left little scorch marks on his palm. Theo swore, nearly throwing the wand down.

It took four tries for Theo to find his new wand. It had taken Hermione only two as a child. She would have clutched the first wand Ollivander had given her, feeling so close to magic to be holding a literal wand, had the wand not burned her fingers. A part of young Hermione, a very silly part, thought that she might be declared unfit for any wand and be kicked from this wonderful world she'd only known for a few days but already knew she could not live without. So, it was fortuitous that her second wand was a perfect match.

"A fine choice!" Ollivander crowed when a wand finally responded to Theo's touch.

"There's not much about choice, is there?" Theo gave a half-laugh, his thumbs rubbing over the wand.

Hermione stepped forward, trying not to seem like she was rushing to receive her chance. She tripped over her feet a little, much to Theo's quiet amusement.

"And me?"

Ollivander looked at her so closely she felt like he was peeling back the layers of their disguise. She worried for a second it was fading, but Theo still looked like he was wearing a different face, so she quelled this fear. It had only been ten minutes. They still had plenty of time. Their time was okay, if she believed Theo's calculations.

"Well, let's start here."

He handed her a vine wand. Not quite her old one, this one was longer, but close enough that it sort of took her breath away. Praying, though for it to work or for it to fail Hermione was unsure, she lifted her fingers hesitantly.

A great boom from the back of the store room told her something had exploded.

As soon as Ollivander was whisking the wand from her hands, she recognized a sadness for losing it, even if this was not her wand and hadn't been to begin with.

While she thought that going through four wands was an arduous process, it took Hermione close to ten to find her perfect wand. Ollivander didn't seem bothered or irritated by the constant processing of wands. In fact, each wand that responded wonky to her seemed to thrill him; he was clapping and examining wand boxes with a scrutiny she guessed was a Ravenclaw upbringing.

Finally, he pushed a shorter light brown wand into her fingers.

It didn't look like much. Her last wand had been covered in leaves and vines. It had been pretty. This wand, apart from a few carvings around the handle was sanded carefully and natural-looking. Not quite completely straight, like it had been plucked from a branch on a tree. It felt close to nature, close to magic in a way her previous wand had not.

Yet, the second it touched her fingers, Hermione felt the warmth bubble up inside of her.

"Yes, well, I had wondered," Ollivander murmured, but he did not seem willing to share whatever insights he had.

"That'll be it then," Theo said, grasping his coat from where he'd been sitting. He placed fourteen gleaming galleons on the counter before flinching. How could he know how much wands went for here, if he'd never stopped by? His mistake didn't seem to flag as strange to Ollivander, who wrote something in a strange font and wrapped up the bags for them, in case they were in need of it.

As they had just reached the door, Ollivander gave a soft thoughtful hum.

"You know, I may be incredibly wrong, but I remember every witch or wizard I've ever sold to," He said.

"Is that so?" Hermione struggled to keep her voice level, interested.

"You two were quite a mystery for me. Perhaps I kept getting muddled with wands because there are two signatures that I recognize within you. But, that's impossible, for those two students would be just staring their...oh, sixth year? Yes, sixth year at Hogwarts." He scrutinized them with a bright, calculating look, "Impossible, though, wouldn't you say?"

"Quite so," Theo said, but his voice was a bit too loud, a bit startling.

"Ah," Ollivander waved a hand, opening the door for them wandlessly, "I suppose my old age is getting to me."

Outside, Hermione clutched her new wand to her chest, heaving.

"He knows," She hissed to Theo.

  
"He suspects," Theo retorted, but he didn't seem any more sure, despite his staunch words.

"He never asked for our names. Didn't you find that a bit odd?"

Now that she mentioned it, Theo scowled, "I just wasn't...it didn't seem good to give more than he needed." Still, his doubt clouded his voice. Hermione bit her lip angrily, stalking a couple of paces away from the shop.

They were in over their heads. This was madness. There was no manual on how to time-travel to save the fate of the world correctly! They were breaking every law just to be here, and they were completely alone within this. Their new faces may look like they were older, but they were practically kids still! It was like throwing a baby into a fighting pit and telling them to win…

Which is exactly what Dumbledore had done with Harry, hadn't he?

Hermione could not let her mind remind herself that her Harry was dead now, so, that wasn't comforting. This Harry could still be saved, Merlin willing.

"Hey, Her-Emilia?" Theo touched her shoulder, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Hermione spat back, but she very much was not.

Theo looked deeply concerned, but unsure how to proceed. He looked around. Hermione saw the moment his eyes lit up.

"You want some ice cream?" He said, pointing at Florean Fortescue's pastel-colored shop.

"Do we have money available for such trivial things?" Hermione questioned. Wands were necessary. Hotel rooms were necessary. Clothes were necessary. Ice cream was not.

Theo pushed a strand of blonde hair away from her face, "Consider it a gift to my fiancee. Happy wife, happy life, isn't that how it goes?"

Hermione considered it. Not his cliched muggle quote, but ice cream.

She thought about how it was almost like a date, since most wizards took witches to Miss Puddifoot's in Hogsmede for a shared sundae ice-cream, and somehow she was still going to get an akin experience. Since they agreed they were going to be married, it was a little out of order, but nothing about this was traditional anymore. And how novel it would be, to sit across from Theodore and eat ice cream! How utterly normal. How, dare she say it, romantic?

Her stomach growled.

"Well, if you insist."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll find out later exactly what the new wands are.
> 
> SO, do you think Ollivander knows? Will he spell some trouble for them in the future?
> 
> If anyone is curious, the way I imagine their alters to look is this; Sebastian (Theo) is Torrance Coombs and Emilia (Hermione) is a mid-twenties Evelyn Brochu. So, as they will still see each other as their real faces, everyone else from (mostly) here on out will see those faces on them instead.
> 
> If you are still enjoying this or have just found it and love it, consider dropping a review!


	10. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure it's Friday...I feel like my week has been mixed up and I've been wrong about what day it is all week...hmmm. But I'm at Disneyland this weekend, and it's snowing back in my home state, so I guess I cannot complain!

_Sep 4th_

Only once the pair was settled outside in the still-warm sun of September, licking their ice cream, Hermione relaxed. Or, to say, her mind was momentarily distracted.

Hermione had gotten her favorite; mint-chocolate chip. Something traditional and hard to mess up, something muggle. Theo had opted for a more Wizarding flavor, shrivelfigs. It was a ghastly potions ingredient, but when mixed with sugar, it ended up delightfully sweet and pungent. Ron had always liked that, but Hermione had never found it particularly palatable. It just reminded her of Snape and the drafty potions classroom, to be honest.

"Let me," Theo said, motioning for her cone.

"What?"

"Let me try," Theo said, raising an eyebrow, "Since I doubt we'll have access to the likes of this often," He gave a despairing sigh, sending a sad and pouty look at his electric purple ice-cream. He'd garnished it with candied scurvy grass. It was almost half-way to a potion already with that pairing and Hermione wondered in the back of her mind if his aptitude for the subject influenced his weird desert choices. Hermione held the cone to her protectively.

"Ew, get away," She kicked his shin under the table. Theo just smirked.

"Married people share food."

"Some. I don't," Hermione said, "You could have just as well ordered this yourself!"

Theo gave a grunt of something inaudible under his breath, before using his new wand to transfigure a napkin into a spoon, "Happy? No Bash-germs anywhere, right?" His eyes were alight. He was positively delighted to have a wand in his hand, something Hermione felt deep in her soul.

"That's acceptable," Hermione let him take a small scoop from the top of her treat. He tasted it like he was tasting a fine wine. She resisted the urge to roll his eyes; you could take the boy out of the Pureblood Society but you couldn't take the Pureblood Society out of the boy.

"It's...that's almost like medicine," he said, screwing up his nose. Mint was a common additive in many healing potions. She supposed it was the equivalent of that ghastly faux grape scent and taste that Hermione recalled from children's cough syrup. She'd once smelled it in a candle at a store and nearly barfed in her mouth.

"Well, not to me." Hermione said, "Good." At least she wouldn't have to worry about Theo raiding the icebox and devouring her pint, "I've decided. On a middle and last."

"Oh? Let's hear it," Theo returned to his own cone, slinging his arm over the back of his chair. He watched wizards and witches pass. Hermione had been watching people too, even without meaning it. So far, apart from the shopkeepers, they hadn't seen anyone they didn't intend to. She considered how weird and how unbearable it would be to see Mrs. Weasley walk down Diagon Alley or Oliver Wood or-

She tore her mind away from that.

"For my last name, Vilas. I saw it on a muggle paper-back for a last name." She said. Something about the combination of it together, Emilia Vilas, was pleasing to her. Theo had no qualms.

"And middle?" He prompted.

"Catherine." Even as she said it, her chest ached with a warm but melancholy fuzzy feeling.

Theo examined her for a long moment, before shaking his head, "No."

Hermione squared her shoulders, "No? What are you talking about 'no'?" She demanded, "You don't just get to-,"

"Ah, as I thought," Theo said, as though she'd just confirmed something for him, "Double no."

Hermione was extremely tempted to throw her ice cream in his smug face. Before she could do anything rash, Theo grasped her hand.

"Get off." She hissed.

"It's a nostalgic name, isn't it? I first guessed maybe She-Weasle's middle name or something, but now I'm thinking of a family member. Mother?"

From the tautness in Hermione's jaw, despite her best efforts to stop it, she wordlessly admitted to that. The edges of her eyes burned and she desperately tried to keep her tears from falling.

Theo sighed, "We can't...look, if people start suspecting and start digging and they discover your middle name is your mother's first name? No, you can't afford to be touchy-feely about it. Your ridiculous reaction to my refusal is what told me. You're needlessly attached to it. You need to be more of a Slytherin. Ruthless and dispassionate."

"Needlessly?" Hermione glowered, "Ridiculous? Perhaps I just don't like men telling me what I can and can't do! And Slytherins being dispassionate? Hah, you're having a laugh"

"When you calm down, you'll see reason," Theo sat back.

"You picked clever connections for your last name! And said yes to Emilia. And what about 'Lyro'. Not conspicuous." She accused.

"Those were just that, clever little plays on words. If anyone tried to use it as evidence, it would be reaching, at best," Theo said slowly, "And also, the average bear probably doesn't know old Norse or Shakespeare. They wouldn't even know where to start looking. No, that won't work!" He argued, hissing under his breath as he shook his head slowly.

Hermione, despite her heart telling her that he made a good point, couldn't let go of her mother that easily.

"I had to...to...obliviate them," Hermione admitted in quiet whisper, just a hair above inaudible, "I haven't seen them since seventh year."

"That's why He could never find them," Theo replied, deep in thought, and then his face turned somber, "I'm sorry."

"It was needed," Hermione pulled herself together. Remembering what she'd done, the stone-heartedness of this act, helped her drop the name she clutched to. She'd done many things for war. Picking a name, a middle one at that, that was _just_ a name? It was so easy compared to all the other tasks she'd done.

"Antoinette." She choose.

"And?" Theo prompted.

"Just a name I've always liked." She'd seen it often in her trips to France. It wasn't born out of a totally random name, but how many people traveled to Paris per year? To connect Hermione to a French name would be laughed out of court if someone tried. The Dark Lord would surely find the person suggesting it desperate, throwing things at the wall and hoping one would stick.

"Emilia Anointette Vilas." Theo said it all together, "Hmm. Sure."

"What is yours?"

"My name?" Theo scoffed, "I thought you were the one with the good memory."

"Your middle," She lightly slapped his shoulder before she realized it, a playful gesture. Her anger was still there, but not as present. It was more of a mild annoyance with him, a frustration to discuss in the future.

"Sebastian Eamon Liohte."

Hermione stifled a laugh, "Sounds uppity." If Theo was offended, he didn't show it.

"Well, good," He shrugged, "I was going for that."

XXxxXX

They finished their ice-cream quickly before apparating back to their hotel. Their faces had worn off just as the closed the door to the room, and a part of Hermione was relieved to see the Theo she was used to, not the Sebastian he was going to become. They bought some bread, meat, and cheese from the local shop, not wanting to go out and pay for an expensive dinner nor buy a whole host of food they would just be throwing out. Besides, Hermione's stomach was feeling full after the ice-cream. It would take a while for her to adjust to something as wonderful as eating regularly again.

"So."

"Yeah?" Theo was fiddling with his wand, reading something on the chair. He was perched like a bloody heathen, sitting on the arm instead of the main cushion, legs bent onto the seat.

"Dumbledore."

"What about?" Theo still wasn't giving her his full attention. He licked his thumb to turn the page, another awful quirk of his. Who wanted saliva all over their pages? Not Hermione. She reminded herself to never share books with him. A horrible thought hit her; what if he was someone who _dog-eared pages_?

Sure, this was all inconsequential, but it mattered to Hermione. She had to live with him. Still, there were more pressing issues involve herself in.

It had been Hermione's impression that they'd be reaching out to the Order as soon as they'd landed in this past time. She would admit that waiting until they were clean and with wands was needed, but Theo seemed in no great hurry to say anything. She's almost been expecting him to Floo them right from Diagon to Hogwarts or to Grimmauld Place, but he'd dropped his things in a clear 'I'm not going out again' sort of way.

"Well, when are we going to talk to him?"

Theo scratched his head, "I hadn't thought about exacts, but probably once the house is set up and the wards are set? If you're still on that."

Hermione shook her head, "That long? You're mad!" She started to pace, "We need to tell him. Right now."

"Look, I'm not as enchanted with the old man as you are, one," Theo was now focused on her. He'd set aside his reading, "And also, why do you want to tell him so badly? The whole idea was that we work not as part of the 'Order' but as two people from the future trying to save lives." He said.

"Yes, but," Hermione inhaled, "Time travel is tricky business. Imagine what would happen if Dumbledore found out before we got a chance to tell him?"

"You think he'd kill us on the spot? That's not his style," Theo laughed, "I liked the muggle maxim 'better to ask forgiveness than permission'."

Hermione whipped around, "So what, we just wait for him to find us?"

Theo shrugged, "It's not as though we're actually asking his permission in the first place. The meeting, if that, would be a courtesy. You think that Draco and I were sitting up, dreading over what he'd say, about a meeting with a man that both of us weren't necessarily disappointed to see die? About ruddy time, more like."

Hermione stalked over to him and slapped him, "You take that back! How dare you say that?"

"He wasn't a friend to Slytherins, Hermione," Theo rubbed his red cheek, his eyes glinting like slabs of cool stones, "He thought all of us were on the path to the Dark Side anyway! Cannon-fodder, not worth saving. He even used you, why don't you see that? You don't think it's barmy that he sent three seventeen-year-olds off into the world to hunt down Horcruxes and kill Old-No-Nosy, with almost zero instructions, all the while knowing that Harry would have to die? You were all fucking expendable to him! He asked things of you that were inhuman!" He'd gotten up during his rant, edging closer and closer to Hermione. With each step into her personal space, Hermione took a step back, until he had cornered her against the wall. Theo did not stop until he was inches away from her, so close that when he inhaled and exhaled noisily, his chest brushed hers.

"We offered," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"You offered, ha!" Theo shook his head, his tongue edging along his teeth, as though infuriated at her very answer, "You thought that you offered. He played you. From first year, he played you."

"It was war," Hermione said, staring at Theo, refusing to back down on this, "The Dark Lord asked you to do equally as difficult things, things that no seventeen year old should have had to do," She said, thinking of Draco and his assignment that he'd attempt to pull off this year.

Theo's hands caged her against the wall, pressed next to her head, "The moment you start comparing that asshole to Dumbledore is the moment you know you've lost," He said in a low, throaty whisper, "He was supposed to be better than Voldy. He was supposed to be the light side." He almost sounded bereft, and in that moment, Hermione could almost see it. A young Theo, who knew that what he'd been raised might be wrong, thinking Dumbledore would solve things. And then he didn't, and Theo hated him because he never forgave him. He likely never would.

"He is the light side." Hermione's voice quivered.

"He's gray. He's always been gray," Theo said, "As we are now." He used one hand to lift Hermione's chin up. Hermione's eyes flickered to his cheek. She felt bad about that now. Slytherins just brought out her fists, it seemed. She was still upset with him, but slapping him may have been out of line.

Theo's knee pressed against the wall so he was completely flush against her. Even as his forehead landed on her collarbone, just resting, his breath hot on her exposed skin. The silence stretched between them, pulled hard, and Hermione just waited for something to snap. The quietness felt infinite and heavy.

"How long has it been for you?" He asked, a throaty neediness she hadn't heard from him before.

She should have pushed him off, but did nothing. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her breathing increasing, "Nearly a year."

"Ron?" He guessed, but made no move to take things further, despite how Hermione could feel his hardness straining against her thighs. Hermione's stomach was flip-flopping, her lower body slowly coming ablaze with fire. One hand traced her hip, lazy circles raising goosebumps on her skin. Hermione closed her eyes, sinking into his touch.

Hermione, at first, could only manage a watery shake of her head. She didn't think that today she'd tell Theo, nor tomorrow, or maybe not for a year, but one day she'd explain Ron. She'd explain how they'd kissed during the Battle of Hogwarts, but then things had gotten so bad so fast. She'd explain how she always imagined they'd end up when it was over, but there wasn't an 'over' now. She would explain how she wished they hadn't been so selfless, but a little more selfish, taking each other in corridors or under covers or just resting into each other's embrace. She wished she'd had him when she had the time.

"Neville," She said, "Hannah had just died. He was sad, I was lonely. It was nice. He was only my second," She felt incensed to add, "I lost it to Viktor, fifth-year. You?"

Theo lifted his head from her shoulder, eyelids fluttering as he restrained himself, "About the same," He said, "Astoria…" There was a long pause, but Hermione could tell he wanted to say more. She let him have as much time as he needed, to finally add, "And Pucey."

"Adrian Pucey?" Hermione echoed, trying to remember her. Then it hit her; it was a _him_.

"Mhh."

She blinked, trying to figure this out, "Together? Like, at the same time?"

Theo stepped back, forcing a light chuckle, "Yeah." He shrugged like it was casual. Maybe this was his way of protecting himself. What he'd just told her was not a light admission.

Hermione wrapped her arms around her midsection.

He wasn't entirely gay, no, not from how he grinned at the memory of Astoria, not how he'd been rutting against her. But he wasn't straight either.

"Okay." She said after a second. She didn't care, not really. But to Theo, this must have been a monumental acceptance, because his whole body just breathed like he'd been holding in his breath all his life. She wondered how many people spat on his name because of this secret, this desire he held.

She wasn't going to push him. Just like how she had feelings and secrets she kept close to her chest, he did too. They had a long time to spend together. It would come out, eventually. When they were both ready.

The mood hadn't been ruined, but it had been paused. They were both too watery and hurt right now to take things further. Theo taking the moment, moving to his bed, was what she needed. She admitted in her mind, with a deep blush racing up her neck to her cheeks, that had Theo wanted her right there, she might not have said no.

Theo sniffed, wiping the corners of his eyes covertly with the back of his hand. He looked down, embroiled in a slew of memories only privy to himself.

Hermione picked up her wand from the duvet, settling herself on the bed. She lightly picked up her old wand. Her old wand now felt defunct in her fingers, as foreign as the Snatcher's wand had been.

She examined them side-by-side.

Then, she used her own wand to turn on the lights by the side of the bed. It was a first-year-spell, unquestionably simple, but a sob rose in Hermione's throat. It had been so long since she'd been free to do magic without fear of her own death. She had missed it so much, and in this moment, she never wanted to set down her new wand again. She would have to train, to practice. She was so out of shape, magically speaking. She could feel the effort it took for 'lumos'. It wasn't hard, but it wasn't second-nature either.

"It's so...different," Hermione said out loud, completely enraptured with her new wand. With every knot in the wood, every groove not sanded out, every speckle of darkness on the stain she fell more in love with this wand.

"Neither of us are the same people we were when we were 11. Back before we didn't know about any of this bullshit or what we would have to do or-," Theo broke off, "We've changed."

"English Oak, Phoenix, thirteen inches, supple." Hermione said out loud, echoing what was written on her wand box, "A Phoenix core. My last wand had been vine and dragon."

Theo placed his new wand and his old wand on his lap, vaulting over the bed to sit across from her. His eyes were puffy and his face pale, but he seemed a little more put-together now.

"Cedar, Unicorn, fourteen inches, reasonable supple," He echoed, holding up the new wand, "Unicorn hair is harder to turn to dark magic. I didn't know a Slytherin that didn't have a dragon heartstring, unsurprisingly." He said, tilting his head at his new wand, "Like I said before though, we're gray wizards." She took in his last wand. She assumed it had been dragon as well, and the wood looked to be maybe ebony.

He offered it to her. At her confused expression he added, "When you marry, magically, wands aren't exactly interchangeable, but they do work fairly well. I mean, it's like mixing your magical signature, so...children can also use their parents' wands with varying success."

Hermione took his wand. Right now, it felt as clunky as her old one.

"We meet with the realtor tomorrow."

"That's a quick turn-around."

"Yeah, well," Theo waited until she handed back the wand, watching her carefully, as though she was going to take it. Unreasonable, but she understood his cautiousness. She wasn't about to throw her new wand his way, "I'm offering her a lot of money for this house."

"I always thought my first house would be bought with someone…" She didn't say Ron, but that's what she felt, "Just different." 'Different' seemed to be the word of the day.

"I thought I'd inherit my manor," Theo agreed, "This Theo here still might. Your Hermione still might. We're doing this so they hopefully get that chance."

"And us?"

Theo gave her a pitying look. She wanted to reach out, soothe him, comfort him, though she knew the look was directed toward her.

"Well," He said with utmost care to pick his words, "Be reasonable." He didn't seem to be able to express much more, but a dark feeling filled her. She inhaled quietly, studying him, despite her own fears.

"You don't believe that there's something that will come when all is said and done?" She said, tilting her head. Theo pursed his lips.

"I don't think I quite believe in happy endings for people like us anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We all obvs know what Hermione's original wand was, but I went and did the wand quiz three times trying to be in Hermione's shoes (this Hermione), Old Theo's and New Theo's shoes to figure out what their wands would be. I introduced what their new wands were in the chapter, but here's Theo's old wand if y'all were interested: Ebony, Dragon, 13.5 inches, quite bendy!
> 
> For MORE wandlore, this is what it says straight from Pottermore about their wand woods
> 
> Hermione's New Wand: A wand for good times and bad, this is a friend as loyal as the wizard who deserves it. Wands of English oak demand partners of strength, courage and fidelity. Less well-known is the propensity for owners of English oak wands to have powerful intuition, and, often, an affinity with the magic of the natural world, with the creatures and plants that are necessary to wizardkind for both magic and pleasure.. Shares a wand wood with Hagrid and Merlin.
> 
> Theo's New Wand: Garrick Ollivander believed that whenever he met one who carries a cedar wand, he found strength of character and unusual loyalty. His father, Gervaise Ollivander, used always to say, 'you will never fool the cedar carrier,' and he agrees: the cedar wand finds its perfect home where there is perspicacity and perception.[2]
> 
> Ollivander said that he would go further than his father, however, in saying that he has never yet met the owner of a cedar wand whom he would care to cross, especially if harm is done to those of whom they are fond. The witch or wizard who is well-matched with cedar carries the potential to be a frightening adversary, which often comes as a shock to those who have thoughtlessly challenged them. Shares wand wood with Slughorn.
> 
> Theo's Old Wand: This jet-black wand wood has an impressive appearance and reputation, being highly suited to all manner of combative magic and to transfiguration. Ebony is happiest in the hand of those with the courage to be themselves. Frequently non-conformist, highly individual or comfortable with the status of outsider, ebony wand owners have been found both among the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix and among the Death Eaters.[2]
> 
> In the experience of Garrick Ollivander, the ebony wand's perfect match is one who will hold fast to his or her beliefs, no matter what the external pressure, and will not be swayed lightly from their purpose.
> 
> Just thought you all might find that interesting! Take of it what you will!
> 
> See you next week,
> 
> Lex!


	11. VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very exciting news! This story now has a beta, BlackRoseMagick! She is fantastic and will beta-ing the story from here on out. If you notice that the wording has now switched to more British-style editing, that is intentional. I do try to write like that, but apart from her just fixing my basic grammar she is also now by Britpicker ;)

_ Sep 11 _

The realtor’s high-pitched, highly irritating giggle pierced the openness of the hallway as she let them into the door. Theo had just said something; it probably wasn’t even that funny, but the woman fawned over him like he was the best thing since sliced bread. Hermione, who on average thought Theo was pretty great, would be the first to say his humour only hit about 50% of the time, but this woman laughed at nearly anything Theo said. Intended joke or not. Hermione, coming up in the back of the trio, took an imaginary shot-glass of Firewhisky, tipping her head back. She’d started this on day two; every time that this woman flirted with Theo in a pathetic sort of way, she took a shot.

She was getting more and more bold with her movement. At this point, she was shocked that neither Theo nor Priscilla had noticed her actions and questioned what the heck she was doing. She had a list of reasons, but at this point Hermione almost wanted the garrulous woman to see Hermione in her imaginary game.

And Merlin, if it was actually alcohol? Hermione would be plastered.

It was their fourth day of looking at houses since they were splattered across England like a huge constellation in the sky. Theo insisted that they view all seven she had lined up, claiming that their perfect house had to be just so. Hermione knew that Theo was fucking around where their home base was, which was fair, but still an arduous activity. And if Hermione hated it, Theo who was Mr Introvert- had to be hating this on the inside. But you’d never know. It was as though Theo had retreated inside himself completely and ‘Bash’ had come out instead.

On day one, he’d charmed her.

Back up, from the second that she met Theo and Hermione outside house number one, Hermione could see how she looked him up and down and swallowed. Perhaps Theo had noticed. He probably had. It was only too easy to foster a weird loyalty with someone who lusted after you from the start. Or, he was as oblivious as every other guy Hermione knew.

She batted her eyes, she always brushed close to him while walking, always lingered while looking at him a little bit too long. Her eyes clearly craved him, and each moment they were together she wanted to drink his sight in until she was overcome by it.

It wasn’t really ‘Theo’, though. They’d tweaked the potion and added differing weights and heights, cutting their fingers over the bottle before meeting her. This was the real-deal, one month long and undiluted shit. Hermione still saw Theo’s face, his real face, but she had to remember that whenever Priscilla Bingley blushed at his smug expression or caught his eyes, she was looking at Sebastian’s face.

Priscilla was enamoured with all of Bash, to be honest. Hermione didn’t ever recall him being so talkative at Hogwarts. This entire persona? It was totally faux, though Priscilla didn’t need to know that. She could tell he was giving a bigger effort than normal to be cordial, charming, and confident. Maybe he was taking his cues from other Slytherins, ones who had been in the spotlight more openly. Maybe he was a good actor. Still, whenever they returned home to their hotel room, Theo was often silent for a long time. To be that gregarious of a person was obviously tiring to him.

Priscilla was their first test-run. Theo explained it all to her, their story. The one they’d decided on while lying in separate beds in the hotel room, preparing for the next part of their plan. The night before their first showing they hadn’t slept at all, fighting over little details, like if they’d had pets or near what road in the town they’d lived or who made the first move. Hermione, who had originally wanted to just memorize Draco and Theo’s cover story, now found herself completely on-board with this plan, having a say in her ‘past’ a vital part of it. She’d given up her mother’s name; fine. She could compromise on some things, but she had to feel like this fake life was believable or it would all fall apart.

Even though Theo had rolled his eyes every time that Hermione had firmed up on some subject, she thought that perhaps he was secretly pleased. She noticed he was more willing to mutually combine things the more they went on. Perhaps he just grew tired of Hermione’s immovable stubbornness.

Theo told Priscilla all about how both he and his lovely fiance's family were both from England, but they’d met abroad in the Middle East, where they’d been raised most of their lives. They knew they couldn’t claim to be from any of the areas that would feed into Hogwarts, Durmstrang, or Beauxbatons, as someone could catch their lies. They thought about saying they’d been in America, but English wizards really hated American ones. Hermione thought the whole of America was barmy with how strict they were, so she’d probably hate herself too.

Not that Priscilla would know anything about wizarding schools, but coming up with one cover was work enough. They were just...omitting the more magical details when it came to her.

The Middle East was a safe bet. It was what they could claim easily in the Wizarding World since there wasn’t a lot of communication out that way. The Middle East was still relatively separated magically from other parts of the world, even though Hermione knew schools and communities existed.

Theo explained, as Bash, how they both wanted to come back and settle somewhere familiar as well as reconnect with family. His parents were investors, dabbling in quite a lot of this and that. It sounded legitimate enough without needing specifics. And, it won over Priscilla, who surmised that he was bloody rich. Which, technically, they were.

Priscilla just ate it up.

“Don’t you just love this dining area, Seb?” Priscilla asked, turning and shooting him a wide, white smile. They’d agreed that ‘Seb’ was a fine nickname for people who didn’t know him well, but when Priscilla said it (and heard Hermione calling him Bash) she obviously thought she was special or being different to title him such. Ha. Bitch.

Hermione nearly choked on her tongue; where had that thought come from? Why did she care that Priscilla was openly flirting with her fiance, other than Emilia should care? Hermione, though? It was a strange response for her mind to conjure up.

Theo hung back, smiling at her, but not overly so. A friendly, observing smile as he looked at the open space.

The funny thing was, that it’s not as though Theo had been indulging her obvious attraction, apart from just being Bash. He wasn’t playing the part of an asshole rich boy with a bimbo fiancee that had constantly straying eyes. The exact opposite. Bash was extremely considerate and loving toward his darling Emilia. It would have been blatantly clear to any outsider that Bash was irrevocably in love with Mi, as he’d begun to call her.

He always was touching Hermione; kisses to her forehead, grasping her hand, pulling her toward him, playing with her hair, resting his head on the top of hers when they were sitting. Hermione was touched more within the last few days than she had been in the whole previous year by another human being. More than that, his face changed. He looked brighter whenever he turned toward Hermione, err, Emilia, almost anything and his face only shined more when she answered.

He asked for her opinion on everything, always tried to make her feel like she was choosing this house too. He was talking to her all in between Priscilla pointing out the finer points (“God, Mi, look at how the light hits this space! It’s stunning, isn’t it?” or “Hey, what do you think of this room? We could turn it into a library for you since we need a place for all of your books anyway!”)

Bash was besotted with Emilia. Theo respected Hermione. Hermione respected Theo, and she really tried to make it seem like Emilia loved Bash. The trouble was that she wasn’t great slipping into a fake role. While Theo, at the end of the day, dropped Bash’s collected and friendly demeanour, Hermione felt like she’d have trouble. She feared if she leaned too far into this fantasy, the lines would begin to blur.

Still, she tried her best.

Maybe that’s what Priscilla was drawn to; this handsome and successful man who dotted on his future wife, the stability of it all, and a wife who seemed not to reciprocate.

As they continued into the newest, biggest house that Priscilla had to show them (after a point, they all seemed the same to Hermione, it was a tad overwhelming), Hermione furtively checked the sky outside. They’d been here, in the past, about a week. So far, so good? No fire raining down from the heavens, no seas drying and horrible giant squids attacking London, no tears in the fabric of the universe. That she knew of.

Sure, it’s not like they’d messed with time in any significant way yet, not the way Theo was itching to do, but maybe things had already changed?

Like, yesterday, at dinner, they’d tipped their waitress. Maybe because she had to wait on their table in this universe, she missed her bus home and had to walk and had been murdered. Or maybe she would have gotten a ride home with a drunk friend in the original time, but now scarcely missed that because the drunk driver hit another car. Maybe their addition was enough to take her on that trip to the beach she’d been itching to take. Maybe the money meant nothing and she lost it in her purse anyway. Maybe her son stole it from her wallet and got an extra treat at lunch or maybe she gave it to a homeless man and he got his first meal in weeks.

It was impossible to tell, and once her mind got onto this topic, it was hard to derail it.

Priscilla blabbered away about the multiple rooms, the unreasonable amount of bedrooms, the astonishing number of bathrooms, and the sprawling yard. Hermione tried to soak it all in. Usually, she was so data-oriented about things, but houses of this size just baffled her. Theo seemed to have a good hold on them, so thank Merlin for him.

By the time they exited, Hermione had things she generally liked and things she disliked about the house but was interested to hear Theo’s opinions.

As they left down the long parkway, Theo noticed Priscilla hanging back, her hands on the door to her car. It was obvious she was itching to talk to Theo or have him notice her. Hermione rolled her eyes as Theo turned to her.

“Any plans tonight Priscilla, or will you be up all night preparing the notes for the house tomorrow?”

“Still not satisfied?” Priscilla blinked at Theo, just looking at him like Hermione wasn’t even there. However, from her tone, it was somewhere between teasing and seducing.

“Well, gotta see them all before we can truly decide,” Theo said, shrugging, “But I guess after tomorrow we really have to make a choice, huh?”

“It’s been quite the adventure,” Hermione cut in, not wanting to be left in the dust.

“You could say,” Pricsciall’s smile was tight as she looked at Emilia’s face, “And to answer, I think I’ll just be going out with my friends. All single ladies and such.”

Hermione snorted and tried to cover it up with a cough. That was about the least innocuous way to let a guy know she wasn’t taken that Hermione had ever heard.

Really, the nerve of that girl.

“Oh! Well, be safe and have fun.” Theo said, and Hermione was actually unsure at the moment if he was actually oblivious to her flirting or was being obtuse on purpose.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Bash, and, uhm, Emily. Ta!”

“Emilia. It's Emili-never mind,” Hermione sighed to her car squeaking away, “So, thoughts?”

Theo looked at the darkening sky, “Let’s get some food, huh?”

XXxxXX

The small Italian restaurant was packed for a Thursday night, but they managed to find a spot anyway. Theo must like this house, at least be considering it, for he’d insisted they travel to the surrounding town. He only did so if he was thinking about choosing that location. By that criteria, two of the houses had really caught his eye. Hermione would have been fine with either, though she was enjoying the town square of this house over the one, two days ago.

Hermione usually had an opinion on everything but she found she was having trouble having opinions on this. It was just so shallow. She would have lived anywhere, she had lived wherever. In the end, a house was just a place to hold your shit. Yes, a house could hold a great many books, but Hermione was always too pragmatic to put too much effort into it.

As Theo talked quietly about how he’d liked the size of the yard and the fact that the kitchen was large, but he didn’t like how the master bedroom was so close to the other bedrooms in the house, there was great applause around the room. Hermione and Theo spun to see a man down on one knee, proposing.

Hermione politely clapped. When she turned her attention back, Theo was smirking at her.

“Oh yeah, wanna marry me?”

Hermione threw a breadstick at Theo.

“Your eighth time is still just as lacklustre, if not more so. Trying to jump on someone else’s coattails? For shame.” She said, snickering into her starter salad.

They’d told Priscilla that Theo (Bash) had been so overcome with emotion for Hermione (Emilia), that he’d proposed suddenly, without a ring. His (fake) grandmother was thrilled and was going to give Hermione her (non-existent) heirloom one the next time they visited, thus explaining her empty finger.

Hermione was still holding out for a proper proposal. And, frankly, she wasn’t sure she’d take anything from the Nott family vault. She was concerned it would all try to poison her anyway...

As she claimed, Theo had tried eight times to propose, usually just an after-thought somewhere, with almost no emotion anywhere in his words. She thought at this point he was making a grand joke of it. Hermione’s frustrations would be better communicated if she couldn’t help but smile at his casualness of it all.

“One day you’ll say yes.” He said.

“Soon I’ll have to say yes,” Hermione grumped.

_September 12th _

Hermione woke the next morning feeling off. She had a headache and her stomach hurt a little. It was not enough to complain to Theo about it, but enough that she felt out of sorts.

The last house on their list was one that Priscilla had added on at the last moment, two days ago.

She just kept saying it was different than the other properties, but until they drove up the driveway to the secluded house, Hermione saw why.

To say it was a house was a colossal understatement.

“This one just appeared on the market, and I mean just appeared,” Priscilla emphasized as they parked their cars just past a gate and stone wall surrounding the location, “I’m not sure where it was beforehand. Now, I know I’ve shown you some more modern properties in the last few days, but this one...well, I just love walking through it. Plus, it’s not often I get the chance to.”

It appeared more like a castle than a mansion. The other houses they’d examined had been new, within the last couple of years. This one was markedly different, not just because it was built with sandy bricks and turrets, but as soon as Theo and Hermione stepped onto the grass, they felt it.

The lingering residue of magic.

“I bet a witch or wizard lived here,” Theo murmured in Hermione’s ear, “Perhaps it bodes well for us?”

“This house is 70 acres altogether, complete with sixteen bedrooms and five guest cottages on the property!” Priscilla said, unlocking the door with an ancient-looking key, “Plus, lots of large rooms for, well, whatever you may choose to have it as. The edge of the property is near some woods and a river. Do you hunt at all?”

“Not in recent years,” Theo replied, touching the doorframe.

Hermione was hardly listening to Priscilla’s inane chatter as she followed Theo into the house. She had felt out of place in the sleek and modern furnishings of the other properties they’d looked at, but there was something quaint and comforting here, despite the absolute largeness of it.

She realized what it was about halfway through. It reminded her why she loved magic. It felt like the first time she walked into Hogwarts or into Diagon Alley. Every room was practically vibrating with energy. It wasn’t anything like Malfoy Manor. Hermione would have put her foot down if any house so much as resembled that hellhouse. No, this one was much more welcoming.

Every room felt very thought out, from the colours of the walls to the wooden structures to the light fixtures. It was recently renovated, and while the outside of the castle boasts a long history, the inside felt like somewhere she could see herself settling in. There, by the window, would be fantastic to read with a cup of tea. In the greenhouses outback, she and Theo could grow their own potion ingredients. At the creek that crossed their property, they could utilize the flow of the water in spells. They could sequester guests in the houses, if they didn’t want them in the same location, and there was an impressive barrier already set up. It was only about ten minutes from town. She could walk or ride a bike or drive if she wanted, but she had options and going for something like groceries wouldn’t be an event in itself.

Hermione didn’t have to ask Theo what he thought. It seemed like this place was touching something deep inside of him too, from the way he was just nodding absently, unable to keep up with Priscilla and lost in deep thought. Priscilla noted how off Bash was too but was unable to keep his attention as his eyes drifted through the rooms and he walked ahead of her, eager to explore.

Hermione bet her wand there was at least one, if not more, hidden passageways in here.

Secretly, Hermione wanted this to be their house if they had to go big.

“What do you think?” Priscilla questioned finally, haven given up most of her attempts to sway Bash’s attention to herself. 

“It’s stunning.” Theo breathed out, his eyes sparkling.

“It certainly is,” Priscilla agreed, though Hermione noted she wasn’t looking at the house, but at Theo. Hermione’s jaw clenched.

Yes, Bash was attractive, but some very protective part of Hermione scrambled to point out that Hermione knew the ‘real’ Bash, to say, Theo. She thought Theo’s real face was just as attractive, if not more, she was beginning to come to terms with. She smirked, imagining what Priscilla would say if she realized that Theo was hardly 23, instead of their new ‘magical’ ages of 28.

“What’s the asking price?” Hermione said, coming to stand shoulder to shoulder by Theo.

“It’s, oh,” Priscilla frowned, rummaging in her purse, “Bollocks, I left the binder in the car. Silly me! I’ll be right back.” She held up one finger, darting away, not before giving one last longing look backward.

“Are we really considering buying a castle?” Theo laughed, running his fingers through his hair.

“I know that you said we shouldn’t be buying the ‘biggest house on the block’, but,” Hermione pouted, “I really like this.”

Theo looked around. They were in one of the bedrooms right now, namely, the master. He bit his lip, shrugging, “I mean, we’re rebels. Time-traveler badasses. We break the rules, even the ones we make for ourselves,” He teased, “If you’re in, I’m in.”

“Priscilla will be either thrilled or disappointed,” Hermione said with a scowl.

“I’d say thrilled. This will be a huge commission for her.”

“Oh come on. You know what I’m talking about,” Hermione crossed her arms. Theo’s face pinched, and she considered maybe he truly didn’t (urg, boys) and she was about to explain when she heard the sound of Priscilla’s heels on the steps. Instead, she decided to make a point.

She had been looked over, pushed to the shadows when it came to her femaleness often. She could never forget Ron’s incredulous, “Hermione, you’re a girl,” in the fourth year, as though it had only just occurred to him. She was always fine with that. She had bigger things to concern herself with than stupid flings.

This wasn’t a stupid fling. Despite not being in love with Theo, he was her future husband, and she just was basically in the mood for zero bullshit today.

So.

She grasped Theo’s shoulders, pulling herself on him more than him to her. She pulled him against her, kissing him hard.

Theo responded immediately.

Hermione wasn’t trying to make this a chaste, cute little kiss. She wanted Priscilla to walk on the pair of them all but having sex on the floor, their passion undeniable. That was one thing that wasn’t absent, passion. She was beginning to admit she did lust over Theo, wanted to feel him, and that she did not need to fake. It may have been her own deep wish, but she liked to think that Theo didn’t have to fake it either.

Hermione reached around and grasped his bum, encouraging him into her. Theo’s hands were everywhere; on her face, in her hair, down her chest, and across her back. His fingers were just at the edge of her jeans when there was a very embarrassed squeak at the door.

For once, Priscilla was stunned into silence.

Feeling proud of herself, Hermione disengaged, acting as if she’d forgotten about their realtor.

“I think we’re going to take it,” Hermione said, raising her chin to the woman in a clear battle. Priscilla could hardly meet her eyes, stammering and flipping nervously through the pages.

All the way to the office to sign the papers, Priscilla could hardly look at Hermione and her mood was dampened with Theo. If Theo realized, he didn’t say anything. Hermione caught him on more than one occasion staring at Hermione with half-moony eyes and a half-scrutinizing expression. It would be like he’d be daydreaming and then catch himself and he was mentally trying to unravel the whole incident.

Emilia, Hermione had decided, was a very possessive woman.

It may be petty, but Hermione derived a sense of glee from this interaction that would not be shaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the actual house (cough mansion/castle) that I chose from them is a mix of two real-life castles for sale in England. I made a fake-town for it. I always like mixing together two real properties. I am currently attempting to draw up a floor plan and some architectural help, but for right now the two castles that this is made up of is Brechin Castle and Devizes Castle! 
> 
> Tune in next week for: Moving into the new house and Theo asking a very important question


	12. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to my new beta, BlackRoseMagick!

_September 13_

"This is ludicrous," Hermione said out loud, staring at the bank statements and shaking her head.

"What? Is there a mistake?" Theo asked, plucking the paper from her, "I'm not seeing what you're seeing." He scratched his head.

"This number…" Hermione struggled to explain her shock, "It's…well, we've just bought a house. Not just a house, a castle and we've also just bought furniture to fill the said house, which is very large. Yes, the house came with some of it, but we had to buy the lion's share. And great Merlin, we've seriously hardly even made a difference in this!" At Theo's still unsure expression, she sighed, "I'm just having a hard time coming to terms with how rich you truly are. It's staggering."

Finding a Muggle Bank that would take their ridiculous sums of money was hardly an issue. Theo had also just done some quick wand-work to assure no one would question too much why they were depositing the equivalent of billions to a new bank, so the portly accountant believed their tale of immigrating back to England with little issue. After that, it wasn't long until their presence spread through the office and people started treating them akin to Royalty. Theo accepted it in a way that showed he was used to people practically kissing his feet, whereas it made Hermione feel strange. Money does weird things to people.

They didn't put all their eggs in one proverbial basket. Theo still had thousands of dollars in both Wizard notes and Muggle that he kept on hand, currently in Hermione's beaded bag. That was the safest place for it, and it was easily accessible. Theo was still amazed about the idea of credit or debit cards, mumbling something that he would have thought Wizards would have come up with something similar to this by now. Hermione wasn't about to remind Theo how antiquated Wizards were in a lot of ways.

"We are." Theo corrected, "My money will be your money. But it's for the best. We're going to need lots of cash to pull it all off." He said with an unconcerned shrug, "Plus, we can't be expected to hold down stable jobs, not for a while. It would be more of a hobby than a necessity if you wanted to." He said.

"It's just a bit much. I feel like I've married a Disney Prince, and I'm some poor pauper," Hermione mumbled. She opened her mouth to explain, but Theo snapped his fingers.

"Walt Disney. Muggle animator. Movies, yeah?"

"Very good. Glad to know you delved into Muggle entertainment." Leave it to Theo to find the magic of Disney films. Hermione loved them, of course, but it seemed like a strange tangent from his other readings and research.

They stood in the foyer of their house, waiting for the movers. They agreed that they would take the next three days to move everything in, sign the papers and make it officially theirs before doing any sorts of ceremonies or wards. Since it was a large house, this was a large order. Hermione finally felt her organization skills snap back into place as she was able to memorize and chart the passageways and locations with ease, directing muggle movers with boxes nearly without thinking about it.

It reminded her of how she'd been able to memorize the moving staircases by her first month at Hogwarts. Ron had just gaped at her since he was still fumbling around and messing up well into his third-year, and even Percy had seemed impressed. While Hermione might not be able to draw things from her mind's eye like Theo, she did admit she was a rather visual-learner. Small miracles; this place was massive and easy to get lost in if she weren't careful. She was only exaggerating a little at that.

Theo put down the sheet, stretching out and rolling his shoulders. Hermione caught herself watching the way his muscles moved under his plain grey shirt and found her mouth going dry.

In the days past, Theo hadn't brought up the kiss in the master bedroom, which Hermione was caught between being relieved and disappointed about. Some part of her was surprised she'd been so bold, even as a Gryffindor. The other wanted him to talk about it, wanted to go further with it.

"You'll get used to it," Theo assured her, patting her head as he passed to open a box and start helping the process.

XXxxXX

Theo found Hermione later in the day organizing books in the library. There had been pre-built shelves, much to her glee, that was fit for a library the size of Hogwarts. Her heart soared to imagine all the new books she could buy, all the things she could collect. She didn't buy many things, but books were her one true weakness. She was rich enough to buy all the books she could ever desire now, wasn't that the truth?

"'Ello."

Hermione turned, setting down a book she'd been considering (she was sorting the books by topic and then by author, and she was vacillating between 'Medical' or 'Potions' for 102 Simple Healing Draughts), and smiling. He was a little sweaty, having been moving things around all day without magic so far. He was wearing a pair of muggle jeans that Hermione had convinced him into buying and a simple t-shirt. She hadn't been surprised, per se, when the jeans had moulded to him so well, but she had decided it was a bad idea on her part. Mostly because her thoughts seemed to very much revolve around Theo in jeans whenever she saw him. And Theo taking off those jeans...

"The kitchen organized?"

"As well as it will be." He paused, looking unsure, "Hey, your birthday, it's September 19th, right?"

Hermione jumped down from the ladder, "Good memory."

She entirely expected Theo to make some haughty quip, and she was about to say that his birthday was on the 22nd of September. She just knew that it was. When you went to school with someone for seven years, birthdays were one of those things you just seemed to absorb without knowing it. She had a whole schedule of birthdays squirreled way in her mind, of people she didn't care much about, or even like (Gregory Goyle; August 15th, Lisa Turpin; December 10th, Kevin Entwhistle; June 8th, and so on…), just from years of birthday letters for cakes making sparks or singing in the great hall. It wasn't like she was looking out for Theo's birthday, but with one so close to hers, it was something she picked up on. She was sure it had been the same associations with Theo. She didn't think he went specifically to look it up.

She realized he looked...well, almost nervous.

"I figured...well, happy early birthday."

He thrust out a horrendously wrapped present to her.

Hermione sat down on the floor, the armchair for the library still taking up space in their foyer for the moment, carefully taking off the spellotape and smiling at the moving gift wrap. There were little Cornish Pixies on the front of it, something that made Hermione snort.

Inside was something familiar. Hogwarts; A History.

"Theo, oh," She breathed, "I had to barter my copy away before and I...I'm so happy to have a copy again." She said.

"I know," Theo said quietly, coming to sit by her. Their shoulders brushed.

"You know?" She echoed.

Theo tilted his head toward the book. She opened it, and her breath caught.

This was her copy of it. Not the version of the book she'd had in Hogwarts, not even version she'd had on the run with Harry and Ron in the Forest of Dean, but the version she'd kept herself occupied with during her years in a post-Voldemort world.

"It came into my hands through Mundungus, about four months ago. Well, through Draco, who thought that perhaps I'd want to re-read it in my 'death' as a reminder and something to bloody do. It took me two weeks to riddle out the enchantment you put on it. I was shocked that Hermione Granger would willingly mark up a book, that seemed like sacrilege, but…" He tapped his wand to the pages. The magical vanishing ink Hermione had used to write all over the pages appeared. It had kept her sane. In the margins, as she read it, Hermione would write her memories from the places described. She didn't want to forget the silly little moments, like Seamus nearly falling off the moving staircases near the Herbology room or Luna's bouncing rabbit Patronus in the Room of Requirements or the window sill where Ginny had first admitted to Hermione that she was in love with Harry. Every inch of that castle had a memory for Hermione, a ghost of the past, a happy thought for a bad day. As her memory had begun to slip due to starving and her intense conditions, Hermione had been frantic to retain these fading remembrances.

Selling that book with the hope the Vitamin Potion would sustain her a little bit longer was one of the hardest and most heartbreaking choices Hermione had to make. Losing that after becoming separated with Ron and Harry had nearly broken her will.

In the darkest of times, this book reminded Hermione why she was still fighting.

"I didn't know it was yours at first, but I guessed it was someone on your side. I read every memory. I'm sorry about that now, but at the time, it just reminded me and Draco about why we wanted to do this. I felt like I was there with you, strolling in the halls. I wrote my own memories in a different colour too, wherever I could find space- there wasn't much. When I saw your handwriting the first night, I realized. I guess I've been looking for a way to give this back."

"I don't mind," Hermione sniffed as she touched her wet cheeks, but she realized they were more happy tears than sad, "I'm glad you found a light within the stories. That's what they were for me too."

The back cover felt heavier than normal. Although Hermione was itching to flip through the pages, reconnect with the writing and the familiar words like a dear old friend, as well as dive into Theo's memories, she was intrigued.

She turned to the last page.

Stuck with a no-residue glue charm was a ring.

Hermione lifted it in front of her eyes, her lips shaping into a soft 'o' pattern.

It was delicate, a thin gold band as though it was plucked from a branch and shaped into a ring. There was a small gemstone at the top of it, nothing too flashy. It was everything Hermione would have wanted in a ring.

"It's my mom's. It's not a Nott heirloom, thought you might not...well, yeah. This was hardly worth much of anything, but my mom loved it. It was a gift from her grandmother. I thought you would like it too."

Hermione was speechless. She looked up at Theo, words failing her. She tried to form something, some expression of gratitude and surprise, but all that came out were garbled sounds. Theo inhaled before continuing.

"I know I'm not who you probably imagined marrying. I know for sure this isn't how you imagined it to go," Theodore licked his tongue over his lips. Not with desire, but with a jitteriness that made Hermione quiet. He was carefully picking over his words, "But as the days pass, I'm more and more relieved that it's you that's doing this with me. I'm not sure, apart from Draco, it could have been anyone else. I might not love you now, and I may not ever. I can't promise you that. I wish I could. What I can promise you are these following things; you will be my equal. I will protect you. I will care for you at your lowest and celebrate you at your highest. I will respect you. I will be faithful to you. I will strive to be a good husband. If you can accept these things, Hermione Granger, will you marry me?"

Hermione looked at the ring in her shaking palms before she turned to him, her breath catching in her throat. He was chewing on the side of his lip. It wasn't as though this whole situation was unannounced, so his reason for nerves was foreign to her. Still, he captured her with such a hopeful expression that she liked to imagine things going differently one day. That, despite his prior words, feelings may bloom.

Even without that, she had come to know Theodore in this past week. It didn't seem like a long time to get to know someone, but Hermione would argue she knew Theo better than she knew Dean, and she lived with Dean in the Gryffindor House for six years.

Theo was steadfast and logical. He was intelligent and calculating. He was passionate about the mission but was not going to push Hermione to the side because of it. He was willing to enter a partnership, not a 'hero vs sidekick' sort of alignment. And, above all, Hermione knew that when he spoke like this, it was the absolute truth.

"Yes, I will."

Theo took the ring from her shaking hands. On the top of the ring lay a stone. It wasn't a diamond, but maybe a sapphire? It was both of their birthstones and made it unique. It wasn't ostentatious or flashy, but exactly the sort of thing Hermione hoped her future husband would have asked her to wear one day. She had been expecting something big and ugly and some stone larger than her eye because that's just how Purebloods did things, so she was relieved and ecstatic to put this on her hands.

Theo slipped it on the empty finger. It shrunk magically, fitting perfectly. She held it up to the dim light in the room, taken aback at how it looked like it was meant to be there and how nicely it settled.

She turned her face back to Theo to see him inches away. He carefully lifted her face with two fingers, leaning in to give a soft, quiet kiss. Even though his tongue ran along the seam of her lips, his movements were slow and molten. He didn't move to tug her closer, but instead, they sat side-by-side, sharing the moment, stretching it out as long as it would last.

"It's near official then," Hermione said when he pulled back.

"Aye, just about."

"Do we need...to find, I dunno, people?" Hermione hadn't asked much about the ceremony surrounding this, but she was woefully under-researched when it came to wizard weddings, "Like witnesses?"

"That's modern and muggle. We can do a ceremony with just us. It's fallen out of practice because it's rather antiquated and a little intense, plus difficult. I don't think we should have a problem, however." Theo stood up, offering his hand, "Should we apparate back to the hotel?"

Hermione didn't realize how late it was. She was reluctant to let Theo drag her away. As she knit her fingers in his to apparate, she was washed with the strangest of realizations and feelings. The hotel room was a temporary place. It didn't feel like home, it felt like an extended vacation or work trip in which she was sharing it with Nott. This house, which was now theirs, was their home. There was an important distinction. This would be a house they would live in, care for each other in, do everything in.

It was hers and Theo's. Not either one or the other's alone, but together. Together.

She was beginning to find solace in that word.

_September 16_

On the day they checked out of the hotel, Hermione couldn't help but wander back to the old factory. Which was, currently, a new factory. Or, at the very least, an up-and-running one.

She tried to close her eyes and take herself back to the bitter coldness of the walkways, to the place she'd been living previously. To go from the rusted hallway of this location to the grandeur of a literal castle felt unreal.

She made a coughing sound in her throat, rolling her eyes at herself. The fact that this factory was thriving was hardly shocking. There were far more surprising things.

To be in the past, safe (more or less) and engaged to Theodore Nott felt unreal.

This whole scenario felt like a fever dream. Hermione hoped with everything she had that if it were so, she'd never wake up. She didn't think she could leave this.

Theo was porting their items to their new house. He'd dropped a bag of cash in her hands, and told her to go find some nice things for their wedding ceremony tomorrow.

"You're the one who said she wanted to do this 'right'," He reminded when she began to protest, "I mean, I'd marry you in those ridiculous muggle trainers you seem to love so much, but it might also be nice to wear a white dress. Virginal, in spirit," He added with a hasty cough since it was common knowledge between them neither were 'pure' in that way, "It will appease the gods."

She didn't want to ask 'what gods', so she just nodded. She would ask tomorrow.

Ginny had practically imagined her wedding since she was eleven. Her and Demelza and even Luna would sit together and swap ideas about their nuptials, despite none of them having a boyfriend. Strangely, a fiance didn't seem to be an important part to them, other than discussing what colours he'd wear. Always seemed a bit backward. On the rare occasions that Ginny goaded Hermione into thinking about a theoretical wedding, it was clear that Hermione was one for something quite traditional and modest.

And now, she was pretty sure she was getting married to Theo with some 'gods' in attendance, which didn't seem 'modest' or 'Muggle traditional', but very far from it.

Thank Merlin Hermione had never cared much about how her wedding needed to play out or she'd be seriously put out by the way it had to go!

There was a right way to get married and many wrong ways, in Hermione's opinion.

Where did this whole thing fall? Hermione didn't want to think about it, nor how excited she was for the whole affair. If not excited, willing to throw away her past absolutes (there had only been a few, to begin with; her parents there, Ginny and Luna as bridesmaids, Harry as her 'Man of Honor' and Ron in the party too, if she wasn't marrying him) and have what may turn out to be a very nature-esque wedding.

Wandering back to town, Hermione found herself in one of the more feminine shops in the shopping row. She was picking through fabrics and styles when she realized she was incredibly lost. Catching the attention of a worker, she asked for white, modest, but somewhat dressy outfits. As soon as the girl had gotten out of Hermione this was for a wedding (a very casual and non-formal one, Hermione stressed) she was shoved into a dressing room with eight different white dresses. Hermione had no idea there were so many varying shades of white!

It was almost as hard as picking a house. At least there, she had Theo to help her.

It was clear to the poor saleswoman that Hermione was floundering, so she started by asking Hermione simple questions, such as if she wanted a long dress or a short one? Short sleeves, no sleeves, or long sleeves? Did she like lace or satin? Did she like embellishments or no?

After all was said and done, there had been many questions. However, with Hermione only having to choose between one choice or another one at a time, it seemed manageable. By her unwavering opinions, the saleswoman procured three dresses for Hermione to try.

The first was far too baggy. Hermione originally thought perhaps she'd like that, as she was a little self-conscious about her figure (She still hadn't regained her weight, so she looked a little skeletal), but this dress looked akin to a potato bag. Even though the embroidery was stunning, it wasn't for her.

The second one was down to her ankles. While she thought she might also like the longness of it, it made her look more like a matron than a bride.

The third was perfect. Delicate lace with quarter sleeves and a hem that hit right above her knees. It was soft and comfortable and pulled in at her waist. As Hermione examined her reflection, she thought she looked like a goddess incarnate. She rarely felt like that.

She wondered idly what Theo would think?

She thought that would be it, but apparently, she was far from done.

The shopkeep dragged her around the store, having her pick an entire outfit. Shoes, jewelry, and makeup (Hermione, opted for more natural tones) and finally lingerie.

"I don't know-," Hermione stuttered, staring red-faced at the sexual items before her, the soft silk and the racy colours.

"Even if you just wear this," The girl held up a pair of underwear and a bra that was made of more fabric than most of the items on display, "I promise he'll go mad. He'll adore it."

"You think?" Hermione took it uncertainty from her hands. Not for the first time today, she longed for Ginny or Luna or even Lavender. Lavender always had good taste, though Hermione didn't have a chance to admire it in Hogwarts. Plus, she always seemed confident in everything she wore around. Hermione could have used some of that confidence right now as she rubbed the fabric between her fingers, considering it.

"You're beautiful, Miss. I'm sure he'll love it."

She may have just been trying to get more purchases from Hermione, but a thrill ran up her back. Why shouldn't she have nice underwear for her wedding night?

Hermione was about to grab the red pair that the assistant was holding up until a different colour caught her eye. Smirking, she gravitated toward that pair, holding up the underwear.

"Do you have these in my size?" She asked.

The sales assistant chuckled, grinning, "Girl! You're naughty." She said, gleefully finding the matching items, "Your future husband won't be able to speak, or you'll get your money back. Swear on it," She said, crossing her heart.

Hermione held the items in her hands, looking at all of them. With a final nod, she walked over to the register.

"I suppose I'll take the lot then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theo's bday is my bday. He's one of my favorite characters...arg, I couldn't help it XD
> 
> Remember to review!
> 
> NEXT WEEK: Part 1 of the wedding!


	13. X

_ Sep 16 _

Popping into their house, pausing as she waited for the rush of blood to hear head from apparation to cease, Hermione found a note tacked to the door. It was nearly bedtime, but Theo was nowhere to be seen. 

_ Bad form to see the bride the night before. I’ll have instructions for you on what to do tomorrow. Get some sleep.  _

_ Yours, _

_ Theo _

Hermione pursed her lips to keep the smile from forming, pressing it softly against her heart. She made herself a simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich to tide her over as she walked upstairs. Theo was in his office tonight, leaving the master bedroom open.

And yet...Hermione felt strange to think that her first night sleeping in it would be without Theo. 

There were plenty more bedrooms, as established by Priscilla on her walk-through, and nearly half were filled in preparation to house people briefly for their task. Hermione ended up setting her items out for tomorrow, crashing and slipping into a deep slumber in the room nearest the master. 

_ Sep 17th _

“I wish you were here to do my hair, Gin,” Hermione sighed, looking at her wand. She sat at her beauty counter, her makeup and hair products spread out in front of her like tools for a mechanic or materials for a painter. It was apt since she would be equally out of depth in both of those things. It was strange, looking into the mirror and seeing Emilia’s face. Her hair wasn’t any easier to manage today, she’d decided. 

Getting married, with none of her friends was a heavyweight that she’d been feeling all day. It wasn’t a real marriage, not a love match. No, that was untrue. It was real in every other way, but it felt strange still. So, she’d set up her wand as a recorder and was talking to it.

One day, when things were better, she might show this to Ginny. Past Ginny, since her Ginny was long gone. Once things could be explained. Once things were won. Once they had to figure out what to do ‘next’, her and Theo. 

If things could be explained, she thought with a deep and awful lurch in her stomach.

It was her wedding day, she scolded her mental thoughts, she could worry all about those things tomorrow. Today, however, she was going to focus on herself and on Theo. So, she forced herself to smile brightly at her glowing wand-tip.

“But I’m trying, promise. But, err, well…” She laughed at her reflection, at her frizzy hair sticking out like a bird’s nest, “It’s rather horrible, isn’t it?” She dropped the bobby-pins defeatedly back on the tabletop, “Maybe I’ll just brush it out nice. Theo said he doesn’t care but I want to give effort. Not just for him, but for me. I mean, though, I always have my hair down. Why should I look different on my wedding day?” 

She waited, as though Ginny were answering, “I know,” She rolled her eyes, “I swear, not just that I’m lazy. Merlin…” 

It took her three hours to do her hair and makeup, far too long for anyone to spend on that sort of thing, in Hermione’s opinion. She had just done that, but at any other time, she’d be very judgemental. 

Theo had left a note for her saying the ceremony would take place at around six pm today, and to be ready by 4:30. He’d also left a bullet-point list of the steps/events that would take place. Hermione wondered if he’d done it, knowing her penchant for making lists, or because he was the sort that enjoyed that too? Either way, she was semi-pleased to have it. 

It read; 

  1. _Invocation of Gods_
  2. _Mark The Premises_
  3. _Purification_
  4. _Intentions Bared_
  5. _Knot of Fidelity _
  6. _Penning of the Ceremony_
  7. _Casting of the Wards_
  8. _Sealing of the Bond_

Eight items, seemed simple, right? 

Hermione’s biggest issue lay within the shortness of the descriptors. She hoped that it was because it would be too much of a task for Theo to write out what each one involved as compared to Theo expecting Hermione to know what these things meant. Because, even with her best detective work, Hermione only had guesses for three and the rest were total shots in the dark.

She tacked the list to her mirror and found herself staring at it every time her eyes strayed from her face. By 1:30pm, Hermione had basically memorized it. 

Hermione nervously descended the stairs at 4:15. She was ever punctual, of course. 

She found Theo out in the grassy moors around their house. He was fiddling with his cufflinks. Hermione wasn’t sure if he was humming a song or reciting a spell. It looked like a scene from a period drama with Theo standing on the green knoll, the sunlight dappling his shoulders and the forests in front of him. 

She opened her mouth but closed it. She was going to go with a jovial, “Good afternoon!”, but that seemed to casual for the day at hand. An ‘are you ready’ didn’t feel right either. Instead, she just coughed to indicate her presence. 

“Hi, Her-mi...one,” Theo started his greeting semi-distractedly, but as he turned, his voice choked and then trailed off with a breath of air. 

“Do I look okay, or am I overdressed?” 

Theo swallowed, snapping his jaw shut, “No, no,” He sounded dazed, “You’re perfect.” 

“Oh. Great, I suppose,” Hermione said, but realized he still looked a little flushed, “You okay? We could always do this another-,” 

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” Theo jumped as she reached to touch his hand, which was bizarre. He’d always been much more comfortable with gentle touches than Hermione had. She chalked it up to nerves. Thank Merlin she wasn’t the only one freaking out about this. 

“Right. So, erm, how do we begin?” 

“You didn’t read the list?” Theo looked slightly disappointed. 

“I did! I just have no idea what they mean,” Hermione cleared her throat, “Number one; Invocation of Gods.” She said, “I can recite all of it if you don’t believe me.” 

Theo relaxed, just a hint, “Right. ‘Course you’d read it.” He closed his eyes with a wince and a slightly forced laugh. 

“Are you sure we can do it with just the two of us?” Hermione said as Theo wordlessly indicated that Hermione should follow him to a location he’d pre-selected in their backwoods. 

“I’m 110% sure.” 

Hermione huffed, “You can’t be more than 100% sure. That doesn’t even make sense.” 

“Yeah, well,” Theo ducked as he passed under a tree, “I am. Joining together, just two people with nature as their witness is the most natural thing in the world. Modern weddings were only conceived so that idiots could show their bride around saying, ‘Look at her! This is consensual. I totally did not steal her from a neighbouring village and she is totally not here under duress. Look, she’ll announce it to the whole town, if that’s what it takes!’” 

Hermione screwed up her nose, “Charming,” She muttered, “When did you become jaded?” 

“Firstly, I’m a Slytherin. We’re born jaded. Secondly, I’m realistic about history. It’s messy and fucked up.” Theo said.

“Do you believe in marriage at all, then?” Hermione groaned. Merlin, she was marrying one of those people who probably called marriage ‘the last legal form of slavery’ wasn’t she? Great. 

“Of course I do,” Theo said, which caused great relief on her end, “I’m not made of stone. I want what everyone in this world wants.” 

“Which is…?” He already had fortune beyond belief, and his life, so Hermione was a little unsure what he was referring to. 

“Connection, partnership, a sense of belonging to someone,” He tilted his head, giving a wry but sad smile, “Love.” 

“Oh,” Hermione whispered. 

“My parents, they sure as hell didn’t love each other,” Theo’s face darkened, his nose curling up, “But I know it exists. Most Purebloods, hell most Slytherins, weren’t married for love, so I always thought that was far out of reach for me.” Theo didn’t continue to say whether or not this wedding between them confirmed or denied his suspicions, “But I know love can exist. I’ve seen it.” 

Hermione was not lucky in a lot of ways, but love was something she had always had. Her parents had adored each other. Mr and Mrs Weasley had still loved each other. James and Lily had been a seemingly perfect couple. At every turn was a story about two parents who were rich with affection and had passed that to their children. The idea that Theo had not grown up with such emotions openly shared made her feel like she wanted to rectify it if she could. 

“Who?” She asked, genuinely curious. 

“Narcissa and Lucius, if you can believe it,” Theo said with a light airy tone to his voice, “And there was no one either one of them loved more than Draco. I think that Narcissa even sorta loved me as a son, or maybe I just hoped she did.”

Hermione was half-way to saying something else, though she would admit she wasn’t sure what, when Theo stopped abruptly. “Ah-ha.” 

He’d brought them to a small clearing with a river running through it. He’d constructed a little wooden bridge, nothing spectacular, to cross it. 

Before Hermione could step across the babbling creek, he paused her. She realized she shouldn’t really be moving at all since she didn’t know what motions to do. Luckily, Theo didn’t seem like he expected her to.

“Okay, step one, we ask the magical gods above to watch us. Nature, basically.” 

“They have names?” Hermione said dubiously. 

“Sort of. We’re going to call upon Norse gods. This whole ceremony is like Norse-Marriage-Lite. I mean, sure, you could do a Saxon marriage or a Celtic or a Germanic or a Roman, but my family has always paid homage to our historical gods. Nott is Norse, you said it yourself. We definitely need all the sympathy points we can get. Hopefully, this works.” 

“Right,” Hermione said, not entirely sure if she believed him, but willing to try anything, “I know that in Greece you leave out food for the Gods. How do you…” 

“Tokens,” Theo opened a pouch he’d worn out to the woods, taking out a handful of carved figurines, “Idols, golems...whatever have you. This is my family set or part of them. I only brought the ones that were pertinent to our ceremony. Vikings used to take these guys with them as they traveled, hoping to imbue themselves with the power of whoever they carried. It’s sort of like there’s a spirit of them within each carving, we’re just calling attention to ourselves. A sort of neon-flashing ‘hey look at us and what we’re doing’ sort of sign.” 

Theo smacked his head like he’d forgotten something, “Oh, damn, look, can you fill this bowl with your blood?” He took out a metal, worn-looking tin. 

“What?” Hermione choked. 

“We’ll need it for a few things. I have a blood-replenisher on me. Sorry, should have asked for that before.” 

“Is it necessary?” Hermione, while had fought in a war and seen a great deal of blood, couldn’t say she was looking forward to bloodletting her palm. 

“I wouldn’t ask unless it was,” Theo said, deadly serious and a bit sorry, “While you do that, I’ll set up the totems. You can just use your wand. No ceremonial knife needed.” He winked, and all things considered, perhaps it was funny, but Hermione was dreading it so any humour fell flat to her.

As Theo jogged to the edge of the clearing, Hermione numbed her hand and did as he asked. She looked at the blood dripping the whole time, but scowled and screwed up her face in displeasure. 

By the time she was healing her hand and drinking the potion, Theo was finished. He set her blood aside, putting something in it- though Hermione could not see- and wheeled her around to the seven little figures, staring at Theo and Hermione with cool, wide eyes. 

She may not know what these figures were, but Hermione knew seven to be a very magical number.

“Just echo me, best you can, okay?” Theo said, reaching out to squeeze Hermione’s hand. Hermione nodded, her face set, as she was determined to do this right. 

Theo coughed, raising his chin. His fingers clasped around her own shook a little and he seemed to talk himself into the beginning. 

“Frigg, mother. We call upon you to bless your children with your love, your steadfastness, and your fertility.” 

Already, at the last part, Hermione was thrown for a loop, but she echoed it after, trying to sound confident. Theo was already moving on. There was a wind that was starting to pick up in the clearing, something that tickled at her legs and whispered in her ear. It kicked up the leaves on the ground but the totems stayed where they sat, though it seemed the gusts of wind should have been able to knock them over.

“Loki, god of magic, we call upon you to look at your magic-wielding kin and grant us your cleverness and mischief. Freya and Freyr, siblings, we call upon you to bless both man and woman in this upcoming ceremony. Heimdall, all-seer, we ask that you look over us in the coming years. Var, keeper of marriage oaths, we ask you to recognize the honest intentions and keep our knot. Norns- fate, necessity, and being- we call upon the trio of you to guide our hands where we are meant to go. Hear us and respond.” 

Hermione was paying half-attention to the changing weather and as they spoke, a wind began to whip around the clearing. It tangled leaves in her hair, throwing dust up into her face. By the time that they had reached the seventh invocation, the clearing was thrashing like a tornado, but only in the clearing. A strange warmness had also settled on her, sort of like the time-turner. It bathed her and welcomed her. It tickled like magic that she couldn’t do, just out of her reach. 

If she didn’t know better, she’d also say that the totems were glimmering. Not glowing, but shining, like they’d been dumped with glitter.

It was a strange magic she felt that touched along the edges of her own. Most magic at Hogwarts was comparable to her own, at least she could easily utilize it. It was on a similar enough wave-length, for lack of a better word, that she could easily switch between using her wand to using a magical device such as a Wizarding camera and it would still work. This magic seemed foreign, out of reach, something Hermione could acknowledge as being from the same cloth, but she was still unable to reach out and touch it. It was as though it was running on a different frequency, one she could not quite tune in to. She felt fizzles and pockets of it, like bad reception, but every moment she tried to open her magical aura to it, it seemed to never be where she thought it was.

She also could feel it was magnificent and something indescribably powerful. 

Theo’s breath was heaving. Even though he’d only spoken and had not moved, he looked as though he’d run a mile. There was a sort of excited exhilaration that coloured his cheeks. 

“I did it,” He said quietly, a smile splitting across his face, “Can’t you feel it? Them?” 

Hermione could feel something. Gods or no gods, the clearing was different now. She nodded jerkily. This might just work. She wasn’t sure what either of them would do if it didn’t.

Her concern and worry about the day's proceedings washed away. Her mind awoke, inhaling the magic around her through her skin, her eyes, her mouth. It spun to intake it all like it was weaving a tapestry of everything she was experiencing right now. Theo was paused, looking up into the woods. The sunlight, dying as it slipped lower and lower, dappled his cheeks. He seemed to be glowing. She seemed to be glowing! It wasn't dissimilar to the aura that was the time-turner. She didn't feel fear that they were going to ricochet into the future, it was more like the remnants of the spell were being lifted and blown about, like pollen in the breeze. 

Hermione whispered, feeling like her normal voice would break the enchantment in the clearing, "What next?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is extremely short and I do apologize! When I wrote this chapter, I sorta didn't plan a good stopping point, just wrote right through. Therefore, the next chapter is a little bit longer and gets much more into the 'lore and ritual' of the wedding and all. So, if you liked this part 1, you're REALLy going to like part 2 I think! The moment where Hermione walks out and sees Theo, I sorta had this quasi Pride and Prejudice imagery in my mind. 
> 
> So, next week, Wedding Part II! 
> 
> We have now reached ten chapters! When I have a multi-chapter story, as a sort of 'thank you' for loyally reviewing, I give a drabble to those that review ten separate times (usually, also, with more than just a 'thanks' or an 'update soon'), or a short request of a fic. If you wanna see some of what I've done in the past, as well as a list of all my ships for your convenience, check out my story 'Karios' on here!


	14. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two of the wedding ceremony! This has a lot of things all sorta just thrown together to make a weird mash-up of what I imagine a hard-core binding ceremony would be.

_September 17th, 1996_

Hermione mentally waved away her fears, going back to tick off the boxes in her head.

"We...mark things now?" Hermione said. Theo motioned across the stream. Lifting her dress, Hermione passed the rushing water over the little bridge. Theo took out an old looking sword, something that seemed as though it would fall apart at the touch. He placed Hermione's small, shivering hand on the hilt and then covered it with his own. Though she didn't have time for a deep study, in the hilt, she could see a collection of letters she just somehow knew was Theo's last name in Norse.

Had the Nott's been Vikings a long time ago? It was food for thought or something to ask. This sword, in itself, was something fantastic. She hoped it survived through the ceremony because it looked like it was held together right now with string and hope.

"We need to make a circle now, and mark runes. You took Ancient Runes, didn't you?"

"Yes, but it's been quite a while," Hermione admitted.

"Just follow my lead."

Hermione hated following orders, but now she quirked a smile, "I'm sensing a pattern."

Together, they made a damn-near perfect circle, drawn into the malleable mud with the sword. Surrounding it, they marked six runes perfectly spaced out. As they scratched them, each rune shimmering gold like there was a light turned on underneath them. Hermione counted them off in her head.

_Ehwaz for twin forces, Gebo for gifts, Ingwaz for masculine energy, Peorth for feminine energy, Wunjo for harmony and Algiz for protection…_

This she was familiar with. Scratching out runes to help align certain properties was something they did every week in Ancient Runes. She'd used each of these specific ones many times over. It was much more of a relief for this than the strange calling-upon of the gods she'd witnessed and partially participated in. This was a magic she knew, undoubtedly, worked.

Theo motioned they should cross back over to the other side. Starting in the direct centre of the totems, where they'd invited them to this forest, they started to carve again.

Leading up to the bridge, they marked the same runes in a line, like a pathway.

"Purification," Hermione recalled as Theo carefully set the sword down, "I'm not sure I...like that." There were many ways for a witch or wizard to purify things. The most common? Fire.

Theo laughed out loud, as though reading her mind.

"I swear it's not as bad as it sounds. After you, m'lady?" He said, motioning across the river. Hermione started toward the bridge, "Erm, no. Through." He made a fish motion with his fingers.

"But I...all this work…" Hermione had never cared about her makeup previously, but she'd worked hard on this!

"It will be okay. I promise." Theo said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She was expecting a full explanation of all of this tomorrow, she decided.

The first step into the water felt like...nothing. She fully was anticipating the chilly creek to fill her shoes, dirty her dress, tug her along. It felt like just stepping into air. Even though Hermione's dress was underneath the current, and her hands too- all the way up to her neck- not an inch was wet. She was utterly dry.

The water had done something, though. Coming out on the other side, she felt lighter, like it had washed away her worries. She also felt that the potion enchantment of Emilia's face was gone. Purified, she realized, blinking.

"It takes very strong magic to wash away my potion," Theo said when she turned, as though anticipating her question, "The power of seven gods, mind you. The average purification enchantment wouldn't do much."

Whether or not she believed him, these were issues for tomorrow.

Theo came through right after her. He seemed to be walking less like a man with the world on his shoulders and more like a young, carefree boy.

He offered Hermione his arm. She did the same, waiting for his motion. He grasped just above her wrist, she mimicked. As they stepped into the circle, Hermione could feel the circle seal around them, the magic thumping around them like a bass rhythm. Like a heartbeat.

"Intentions Bared," Hermione said, "So we go 'hey gods? We wanna get hitched?"

Theo bit his lip, snorting softly, "You're not too far off." He pulled a sheet of paper from inside his shirt, "We read this."

He handed it to Hermione. Her joking mood dispirited as she realized she was staring at an unfamiliar language. In her head, she began to try to parse out the sounds, but it was near impossible.

"I have to say this?" Her voice quivered, "Theo, I don't know Ancient Norse!" Her tone shifted upwards in panic as she stared at it longer, despair filling in her stomach.

Words and meanings were important when it came to spells. You could do non-verbal magic, but you were still thinking the spell in your mind, begging it to materialize, burst from your wand. There was a reason that Ron's horrid pronunciation of 'Wingardium Leviosa' back in first year had kept the feather on his desk, no success in sight. He might have found her insufferable for correcting him, but honestly, he was never going to make it fly whilst pronouncing it like an illiterate baboon.

The levitation spell was just one example and a fairly harmless one at that. By sixth year, Flitwick had warned them that certain other spells- if mispronounced in the wrong way or by putting emphasis somewhere it wasn't supposed to be- could result in a completely different spell. In mild cases, there was a French spell where a word flub could cause your semi-accurate scale charm to turn things into avocados instead. In dire situations? There was a spell where if you used one part of the beginning and guessed the second part, and say you were trying to purify something, you could accidentally shred it. Imagine doing that to a person on accident!

So, while Theo was looking at Hermione like she was mad, Hermione thought this was exactly the correct reaction. Not only did she have no clue what this piece of paper said, but she wasn't about to fumble her way through pronunciations on a binding wedding ceremony. For all she knew, she could say everything wrong and end up permanently transfigured into a lizard or missing a limb or spontaneously cause her insides to combust.

"Great Salazar, I think I can actually see you about to have a hernia," Theo said, "Hermione, do you think that I know perfect Old Norse?"

"Yes!" Hermione sputtered, "Yes?" She repeated, less sure.

"Merlin, no!" Theo laughed out loud, "Who needs to know that? It's honestly horrid to learn."

"Then how are we-," Hermione flapped her sheet of paper in her fingers like it was a bird about to take flight.

"Just start reading. The words will come to you, and the meaning too, like you've spoken it your entire life," Theo said. Hermione stared at him, eyes bulging, "I'm serious."

"Magic doesn't work like that," Hermione argued, pinching the bridge of her nose. She was beginning to wonder if Theo was just making all of this up on the fly, and mentally fist-pumping every time that something went right.

"This magic does!" Theo's voice was sharp, sure. At Hermione's bemused expression, he frowned, thinking for a moment, "Look, hmm, okay. Let me explain it like this. You can agree with me that the magic taught at Hogwarts is (a) basically just a crash-course to how to wave a wand (b) very selective and terribly condensed and ( c) there is so much more magic existing out there we never even touched? Nod if you agree," Hermione nodded, "Let's take Dumbledore since you love him. Intelligent, terrifying man, even I'll admit that much. Do you think he stopped learning after he left Hogwarts? No! He probably devoured magic from everywhere, magic that probably hasn't been seen in a hundred years, yes? Right. And you know that witches and wizards have been around forever, so just like certain traditions have been passed down through generations, so has certain types of magic?" Hermione nodded for a third time, though a bit more uncomfortably, "There is just magic out there that defies explanation. It's old, respected, powerful magic. Magic beyond me or you or anything else. It's just pure magic. It's what our first witch and wizard ancestors felt all those years ago. Untapped, uncontrolled, wild."

"Yes, but-,"

"You don't always have an answer for everything in the muggle world, do you? You probably have an idea how a muggle microwave works, but do you know the exact specifics of every piece of metal on that?" Hermione sourly scowled, "Exactly! But I bet you still use it."

"We are not re-heating a bowl of soup here, we are calling upon gods for marriage vows," Hermione snapped, "And besides that! I don't know what this even says. This could be adding in a bunch of bullshit caveats that will make my life absolutely miserable. Even if I somehow understand it as I'm reading, once it's said, it's said! You had to have known I would dissect all of this Theodore."

Theodore raised one eyebrow, "I guess you wouldn't be Hermione if you didn't. Fine, it basically says that you're asking for our magical souls to be joined. Melding our magic. Super, super archaic. Most wedding ceremonies don't use that anymore, or it fell out of practice around the time marriage became a show. Mostly because old pureblood males weren't marrying girls for their magic power, usually it was for, ah, other assets. Plus, most of these girls were sorta forced into it, it would have been silly to give them a share of the manor magic. That would just be asking for a murder in the night and a quick escape. Neither of these things should pose a problem with us. It will...join us. Make us feel like two parts of a whole, make us stronger and better fighters. That's basically it."

"That's _basically_ it?" Hermione emphasized, "Or that _is_ it?"

"Is, is!" Theo held up his hands. "I swear. It asks to protect us too if it finds our marriage to be of pure intent."

Hermione snorted, "You realize the issue, don't you? We're getting fake-married to take down The Dark Lord. Our intentions are pretty soiled, it's not like we're getting married out of actual love."

"Oh, on the contrary, my soon-to-be-wife," Theo said with a hint of a grin, "You misunderstand it. Do you not want to get married to me? Ahm," He cut her off as she started to squabble again. "You come here with the intention of marrying me, yes?"

"Yes."

"And same here. The intention is pure. Doesn't matter what we do with the marriage after. We both walked into the grove today with the goal of binding ourselves in something magical and permanent. That's all that needs to be felt."

Hermione breathed through her nose, "Theo," She whined.

"Hermione, do you trust me?" He asked quietly.

She hesitated. Theo placed his hands on her cheeks, pulling her right up close to him.

"Hermione," He whispered, asking for her unspoken answer. She stared into his sea-green eyes, thinking about all the things he'd done for her. She placed her hand on his shoulders and caught sight of the engagement ring. About how perfectly simple it was for her, about how he'd given her back her most beloved book, about how he could very easily take total control of this mission and she would be nothing more than a glorified assistant but that's never how he'd framed it.

He had proposed to her with the promise of equals and she had yet to find any reason to doubt that.

Her answer came easily.

"Yes, I suppose I have come to."

"Then take some of that goddamn Gryffindor bravery," Theo said, the softness evaporating as he pulled them ever so close, but it was more of a 'tough love' tone, "And read the card, knowing that I am telling the truth to you on all accounts; what it will do, that it will work, and that you'll say it correctly. Or are you scared?"

It was one of the most childish taunts in the book, but Hermione couldn't let that stand. How was it that Theo already knew exactly how to press all of her buttons?

She lifted the card to read it better and she began to speak.

Strange things were happening all over; with the totems, with the water, with the runes. She shouldn't have been so shocked when the words began to tumble from her lips with a practised accent, as though she'd been born and raised as a Viking mage. From the moment her lips uttered the first word, her brain fired with understanding, translating the words in her head as she read them. She was settled with the knowledge that she wasn't going to trip up on any word and pleased to find that Theo was right in his summary.

She also felt like the vows were so beautiful in Norse that it would have been a tragedy to even attempt to translate them to English or Latin.

Theo repeated it after her. The circle seemed to hum happily, accepting their declaration.

"Knot of Fidelity is where we actually process the words, step two of three if you will." It was strange to hear Theo switch back to English. Her brain lost all ability to understand Norse, apart from her having the vaguest recollection of what her sheet said. As suddenly as the information had flooded her brain, it had receded like an early morning tide.

Theo turned, grasping up whatever he'd put in Hermione's bowl and his own. It was a pair of rope, now stained copper with their blood. The acrid, piercing smell made Hermione want to retch a little, but she held her breathe firm.

He held his palm out, as though he were asking Hermione to arm wrestle him. Once their fingers were locked, he motioned for them to be silent. Hermione was scared to even breathe too loud. She noticed that the noises of the forest around them had fallen absolutely silent, as though someone had just gone in and turned off all the noise everywhere. The only thing Hermione could hear was the pounding of her own heart echoing through her ears.

He twisted his length of rope around their hands and his arm and then did the same with Hermione's. She watched with rapture as the rope fizzled at the ends, sealing itself together in an unending, complicated yet stunning knot.

Then, it began to sink into their skin with a brilliant, opaline light.

The burning started immediately.

Hermione jerked her fingers, but Theo held fast, anticipating this pain. She saw him gritting his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead. It felt similar to when Bellatrix had carved that nasty word into her arm; something magical, something deep, something powerful. While the incident at the Manor had been all agony, the burning here was tinged with just the slightest hint of sweetness, like the end of a deadly snowstorm that revealed a glimmering picturesque moment in its wake.

In the deep recesses of her mind, Hermione felt the primal magic at play. This was not the give-and-take of the wand she wielded and the energy swishing about, this was an exchange. Magic like this could have not existed without giving up some part or enduring something in return.

Her blood felt like it was on fire, the feeling burning through every inch of her, crawling under her skin. She wanted to scratch at her forearms, let this feeling out or cough it up on the ground.

Underneath her own suffering, there was another emotion. It wasn't differing, it was similar. As it spiked in time to Theo's staccato breaths, Hermione realized she was feeling Theo's soul and being right now as well.

The rope around them was sizzling with light, the very strands shaking into nothingness. As the rope burned itself out, the more precisely Hermione could feel Theo's emotions, beating like a second heart-beat just behind her own.

It gave her something to focus on, something for her to dive into and run her fingers through, combing apart the varying degrees within him. Pain, like herself. Excitement and nervousness. A feeling of needing to protect Hermione. Goodness, but also darkness. A will unbent. A desire she couldn't identify.

Then, just as the rope popped away with a final burst of flames, Hermione felt everything Theo felt at full force, so overwhelming it nearly caused her knees to buckle. It was only for a snap of a finger, but in that time, she had never felt nearer to another human in her entire life and never would again.

Theo groaned, eyes rolling back, the strangest fusion of euphoria and glut shoving against his mind as well.

Then, all the pain and her open-door to Theo was absent. The hurt was gone, sans a lingering ache such as when you burned yourself three days ago and it was just beginning to heal. The connection to Theo was muted. She could feel bits and pieces of him, but like someone muttering over the phone connection, they weren't exact and were garbled.

Theo shook their hands apart. Sticky from their sweat and a magical sealing, Hermione peeled their skin back. Woven around their ring fingers, right below where her engagement ring was sitting (which, shockingly, was unharmed in the slightest), were matching tattoos. They were a burnt-umber, faded. It looked like someone had pressed rope into their flesh hard enough to leave a well-documented impression of the texture. In some ways, it resembled the idea of wedding bands. However, a wedding band one could take off. This, Hermione just knew, was going to be on her until the day she died.

When Theo let out a loud, exalted exhale she knew it was fine to speak again.

"That was incredible. Horrible, but incredible," Hermione said in the silence of the woods.

Theo rubbed absentmindedly at his new mark, his fingers echoing over the pattern.

Hermione blinked up at the sky. It was darker than when they began. How long had that taken? It had only felt like a couple minutes looking back, but it must have been longer. How very strange.

Theo was kneeling, pressing a sheet of paper on the ground.

"We're very nearly married in the eyes of magic, which is what actually matters. Still, we should cover our bases."

Hermione recognized the paper as something that Bill and Fleur had signed. Their wedding had felt like aeons ago and very muggle, at least compared to all of this.

"Won't someone notice, though, that it says that Theodore Nott and Hermione Granger are now married? Don't you think that may be an awkward and strange conversation at Hogwarts, considering we've never talked?" She said, "Miss Granger and Mr Nott, is there something you wish to tell me? No? Not that you two are possibly married?" She mimicked in her best Dumbledore-impression.

"Don't worry, this will pop right into a filing cabinet that likely no one will ever see. I worked- briefly- in the marriage certificate collection centre my seventh year. Snake-Eyed-Idiot," Hermione had noticed that Theo preferred to call Voldemort more colourful and creative insults and sobriquets instead of the standard 'Dark Lord' or 'Who-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named', "Wanted me to find all the muggle/pureblood marriages and burn them, to break the magic, if they only were bonded by a sheet of parchment. Then he wanted the list, so he could know which purebloods were 'blood traitors' and which muggles to hunt."

"If you're going to get that job, then won't you-,"

"I never even got a chance to examine the ones in the cabinets! I seriously had my work cut out for me with just taking things from the inbox I set up, a barrier to catch ones that tried to slip under the radar, or ones the officials brought in, or ones the newlyweds sent in themselves via owl." Theo assured, "And if so? I mean, well, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

"Your whole nonchalance with time-travel disturbs me."

Theo clicked his tongue, "Noted. Now, sign."

Hermione wrote her signature on the line, right next to Nott. She had hardly stepped back before it poofed away in a puff of purple smoke.

"We're nearly done. Now we just cast the wards, then one step left." Theo assured, standing up and rubbing her back, "This morning, I went around and placed markers through the trees. You're free to disagree, but here's what I thought. We'd have a three-level system of wards. The first, the widest over the entire property. More wards around the house itself. The highest amount around our wing, in case things really go south. This is the pattern I wrote up for them," He threw a squared paper sheet at her. Hermione unfurled it, tapping her finger down the extremely delicate and intensive list. These were not dollar-store wards, these were Hogwarts-level protection type wards.

Good.

She did have a few thoughts, which Theo was receptive to.

For example, "I see here that you want to bind a _Salvio Hexia_ charm to a _Felicia Joio_, and while using happy thoughts is a powerful binder, have you consider how much better it would be to do a Patronus? That way, we could repel dementors, have an alarm system, and it would be infinitely more powerful," Or, "The _Muffliato_ is a fine charm, but the protective barrier of it is weakened, unless we add sage to it, so we need to smudge those herbs as we do it."

At every time that she had a point to add, Theo would either accept or counter. Eventually, they came to an agreement of the protections they wanted to put on their house. They both agreed it was too arduous a job to complete in one night. In fact, good warding might take days with this level of complication, but that didn't mean that they should do nothing. They decided to start by putting up the goal of the marriage; a soul-joined blood-bound protection barrier, one for each layer.

"We go off and meet our way back at the middle, yeah?" Theo informed her, "We'll worry about the others tomorrow."

As Hermione started to leave, Theo stopped her. He threw his wand to her.

"Erm-,"

"Yours, please."

Hermione tilted her head, but they switched wands. Under her arm in a second bowl was the mixture of blood from her and Theo left from the ceremony that she'd dribble along the barrier to anchor the spell.

"It works best, obviously, if we use each other's wands. Wouldn't be a very strong blood-bond if our wands still opposed our touch."

Just as Hermione was about to remind Theo that wands were very specific to their owners, she realized that Theo's wand was now warm in her hand. Not quite as willing as her own, but very much responding to her.

Fascinating.

The whole process took about two hours, a whole forty-five minutes longer than she'd anticipated. She did work very precisely, making sure that no tether was going to bubble and break anytime soon. She tied a proverbial knot of the spell to the anchor thrice over for each one. It was tedious work, but it would be well worth it. And to another point, she had not done such complicated wards in an extremely long time and was out of practice. By the time she connected her half of the ward to Theo's, it seemed he'd moved on.

By the time she'd finished the second layer, it was close to midnight. Hermione wiped the sweat and mud from her cheeks and face, but she couldn't help but giggle with glee. To expend herself so entirely, to have her bones feel like jelly and her stomach nearly churn and reject because she'd spent all her magic on something felt like the most glorious sickness.

Theo was waiting for her to do the last layer, spinning her wand between his fingers as he lounged on a couch, deep in thought. He looked just as tired as she did.

Yawning, he shook himself awake to do the last set of enchantments with Hermione. This one was shorter, but also more difficult, as going through walls wasn't always possible.

At long last, they were done. Hermione had to detach her fingers from Theo's wand to let it go and dragged her hand over her face.

"We're nearly done, I promise, love," Theo said, pulling Hermione close to him.

"Right, step number eight," Hermione said, blinking away the grey fuzzies that were edging on her vision, "Uhm, what was it? Sealing the bond? I thought we did that with the…" Hermione looked down at her finger where the mark was.

Theo placed his hands on either side of her face, half-smiling, "Not quite yet," He whispered, placing his forehead against hers, "And I think you may want a Pepper-up Potion for this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (I promise next chapter is the wedding night lol)


	15. XII

_September 17th, 1996_

"Why?" Hermione said, trying to fathom what complicated, meticulous spell would be required of her now, but found herself drawing blanks. Theo backed her up to the bed. She didn't even register it until she was sitting on the fluffy comforter. She ran her fingers over it. Oh, how nice it would feel to fall asleep and-

Theo offered her the potion, shaking his own vial between his fingers. Hermione uncorked it, sipping. Her mind started to de-clog, her tiredness fading away and leaving her sharp. She rolled out her shoulders.

"Because," Theo said, sipping his own like it was a flask, wincing at the nearly acrid mint taste, "It's better if you enjoy it."

"Enjoy…" Hermione frowned, feeling a few connections fire wildly in her brain, "You don't mean...?"

Theo turned, laughing, "Well, Hermione, what do you think you do on your wedding night? Sit up and play wizard's chess?"

Hermione turned bright red, even though she should have seen this coming. She had seen it coming; her purchase of her lingerie had confirmed such. She had expected a little more, well, lead up, maybe. Or for it to feel natural or for her to be overwhelmed with her passion for Theo, like that day in the hotel.

"I...we hadn't so much as...that's what it means," She finally settled on, "Sealing it. Consummation." She knew she wasn't explaining it right, but her words weren't catching up quite yet to the way her brain was functioning after the potion.

"That is the unsexiest word, consummation," Theo winced, pushing up his nose, "But somehow, when you say that, it's still so attractive."

Hermione laughed, "You're just saying that to get in my pants, Theodore Nott." She stood, "Can I have a second? To go to the bathroom?"

Theo stood back, nodding, "Yeah, course." She was a little relieved to see him as nervous as she felt.

She got up, nearly running to the ensuite in their bedroom, closing the door with an audible click behind her. She pressed her palms against the sink, staring at her reflection, her heart beating wildly. She splashed some warm water on her face and combed out her hair. She put on some deodorant and a dab of perfume, pulling back the edge of her dress to show she was still wearing the undergarments she'd bought. Which was silly, where else would they suddenly be?

She sat on the edge of the tub after that, staring at her reflection.

She lusted for Theo, that much was clear. Maybe it was the need for human contact or the desire to unravel herself for a second of pleasure, but she didn't think that sleeping with him tonight would be hard.

She wished that a part could switch off the gravity of the situation, that she could stop being reminded about how so much hinged on the night before them.

Hermione ran her finger along the tattooed marking. She understood without being told that sleeping with him with be the final link, the proverbial nail in the coffin.

Once she did this, there was no going back.

"You are going to be tied to Theodore Nott, forever," Hermione whispered to herself, her eyebrows pulling together, "Hermione Nott."

She tapped her fingers on the porcelain side, closing her eyes. She may have been tempted to run, if not for the onslaught of memories that were overwhelming her about her life before. The starvation, the pain, the constant fear and horror, the lives of those she loved that she watched killed in front of her. She tried not to cry, but before she knew it, her eyes were wet.

She would do anything to save this world from becoming that.

And, she told herself as she dried her eyes, there were far worse people she could be married to.

She checked her reflection one more time before exiting the loo.

"You...good?" Theo asked, shifting between his feet, glancing as she entered.

"Absolutely," She insisted firmly, fluffing her fingers in her hair. She tried to think of some sexy line to encourage Theo forward but found that she was not great at pick-up lines. So, she settled to just come standing chest-to-chest with him.

He wasn't a giant compared to her, but he was still about a foot taller. Her chest came to rest on his collar bones.

Being the brave one, Hermione made the first move, reaching up to kiss him. She switched to his neck at the last second, running her tongue along the edge of his throat. Theo groaned, grasping to pull her closer, sealing the gap between them.

She felt his hands under her ass and suddenly she was being picked up. He carried them to the bed, depositing Hermione back on the duvet.

Theodore was standing between her legs. She had time to sit back up, eyes trailing up his form with a burning desire starting to flare deep in the pit of her stomach.

"You're beautiful," She mumbled, watching how his green eyes lit up at her words.

"I think that's my line," He said, "Now it will sound like I'm copying you if I say it," He sighed dramatically. His fingers began to unbutton his shirt, but Hermione stopped him. His smug laughter started to fade into worry.

He stopped his motions, swallowing as he stared at Hermione. He licked his lips with concern.

"We have to do this, tonight, otherwise the bond won't take, you see. But it doesn't have to be...we could...I have some firewhisky if you need to take a shot to, erm, or we could just-,"

"Theo," Hermione placed a finger to his lips, "I was going to say to let me?" She asked, her hands replacing where his had been.

With a feeling like time stretched out, Hermione undid the buttons on Theo's white shirt while he stood, motionless, staring down at her. At one point, Hermione glanced up, catching his eyes boring holes into her. His lips were slightly parted.

She felt her heart thumping hard and all of her blood travel downwards. Her eyes flickered to his waistband for just a second to see a similar change was occurring in him.

"Eyes up here," Theo managed to tease, but his voice was rough and needy. Hermione grinned, focusing back on undoing his clothes.

As his shirt came undone, Hermione trailed her finger down his chest. Thin, but still muscular and fit. The stereotypical Quidditch body, though she couldn't remember if he'd ever played. Theo caught her hand in his own, bringing it to his lips. He laid a simple kiss against her knuckles, right where the bond mark was. Perhaps it was the way he looked at her, watching her from the corner of his eye, or maybe it was the tingle of their connection, but the gesture to her hand had Hermione's body twisted with need, her body alighting and waking up to his touch completely.

She let a soft groan escaped her lips.

Theo shrugged off his button-down, discarding it on the floor of their bedroom, onto the paisley carpet Hermione had picked out only a few days ago, but seemed like eons ago._Their _carpet next to _their_ bed where they lay on _their_ pillows.

What a novel idea it was.

He pushed Hermione backward, climbing on top of her as nimble as a cat stalking its prey. Moving like this, his body was like a sculpted figure, the quiet Adonis that Hermione had never taken the time to notice.

Hers.

Theo, it seemed, was in the midst of a similar realization.

"My wife," He whispered, dipping his lips down to kiss her. Hermione met him half-way.

Hermione intended it to be sweet, but within just a couple of seconds, she was unable to keep from wriggling underneath Theo, pulling him harder against her, aching for more. That night in the hotel room, she hadn't wanted to overstep something, hadn't wanted to pressure Theo when he was dealing with something.

Tonight, though? Not only was this expected and required of them, but Theo was hers and she was going to take the enjoyment she could get in this universe. Who knows when they'd have it again?

Theo was able to keep up with the rapidly heating exchanges, catching her bottom lip in his teeth and sucking, picking Hermione up and cradling her form in his arms. He moved both of them up so that Hermione's head rested on the pillows, settling her back down like she was a fragile rose of indescribable beauty. She knew he didn't love her, but in that moment she did feel loved. And protected, and needed. She felt like although Theo was informed by the ceremony standards this had to happen, he wanted her too, and there was no magic making him harden as he dove deeper into her mouth.

Theo shifted against her, his black dress trousers ruching around his member, which strained to be released. Hermione's mind, which seemingly never turned off, dinged her to a very important question.

"Theo?" She said, blinking through her desire.

"Mhh?" Theo ran his nose down her cheek.

"I'm assuming that this union, this necessary ceremony...we can't cast any contraceptives, can we?" Hermione tried to make her question sound as clinical as possible. It took Theo a moment to detach himself from her warm skin, to process her question. She saw the moment his eyes and mind realized what she'd asked, for there was a split in his reaction. Some part of him, some primal part that was probably still clouded by the ceremony, preened at the idea of what might happen. The more logical Theo winced, as though the thought had completely slipped his mind. When he sat up, he gave her a rueful smile.

"You are probably too smart for your own good," He sighed, "No, you're correct. Any potions or spells we cast would be deactivated by the ceremony itself tonight, rendering them useless. Pulling out doesn't count. I have to well, give it the old college try, for lack of a better word. Most times, this was done to produce an heir, so-,"

Hermione had considered this. She was hardly surprised and not nearly as frustrated or upset at the idea as she should be. Still, she knew when her last period was and it was unlikely anything would come of it tonight. If it did? If magic intervened anyhow and created this possibility within her? If in nine months, a child was born here, a baby with Hermione's impossible hair and Theo's green eyes. She could nearly see it in that instant, and she wondered if was a vision of the future.

That would certainly kick-start Theo's 'fuck the timeline' war-cry, wouldn't it?

If they managed to come away without such an event, they could put off the issue for a bit. Still, this was a whole conversation for another day, possibly somewhere far down the line. They had to attempt their mission first before any of them could consider the idea of children! They were hardly in the first few steps of the master plan, they still had so much ground to cover!

"Hey, for just one night, is there an off switch?" Theo asked, patting Hermione's head.

"I almost wish there was," Hermione said, and then feeling bolder, "But maybe you should just do your best to distract me?"

Theo started with his hand on her knee, sliding it downward. She didn't know what she thought he was going to do, but Theo dropping his fingers between her legs within three seconds was not it, "Like this?" He teased.

"Exactly like that," Hermione said, closing her eyes and arching as Theo grasped the hem of her dress, lifting it up. He planted a few kisses on her collarbone, only stopping to get the white dress over her head. It joined his shirt on the ground.

Theo caught sight of her lingerie and paused. If it was possible for him to grow harder, Hermione was sure he did.

She was wearing racy, seductive, flirty Slytherin green.

The red one in the store that Hermione had nearly bought had been a bit more covered up; a corset-style and sexy but full-coverage underwear. This pair was markedly different. She almost twitched to cover up her breasts, which were mostly on full display in the small amount of lace fabric, or her knickers which were a thong, she still wasn't completely comfortable in, but Theo was looking at her with such pleasure that she stayed still.

Choosing something like this was very out of character for her, but for Godric's sake, the accents had been silver on it! It seemed like far too good of an opportunity to pass up.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" He asked, "You witch!" He sounded delighted.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," She said, faux pouting, shifting. As weird as it was, she almost wished Theo would just take it all off. Sure, she'd be more exposed then, but this in-between felt stranger than anything else.

"No, mhh," Theo corrected, "It's undeniably, hands down, one of the most tempting visages I've ever seen, darling." He rubbed his hands, sitting back on his haunches, "Oh, how I look forward to unwrapping you in every way you can think of," He declared. Hermione, who for once felt her mind stop all her worries and thoughts, simply grinned.

"Then do."

Theo came back to her lips, his other hand expertly unclicking her bra in the back. She hardly noticed the article of clothing flung from the bed, and frankly preferred it gone because his hands immediately went to her chest. As his fingers flicked her rosy nubs, he ground down on her. As he teased her chest, Hermione groaned.

"Theo, Merlin, I just want you," She breathed. She had not felt such an overwhelming desire for anyone in such a long time. Even with Neville, it had been hurried and quiet; it had been more of a perfunctory check to see if they were still capable of feelings other than sadness. As soon as he'd finished, Neville had thanked Hermione and left for wherever he was set to go again.

Neville had died twenty days later.

So, even if Hermione had considered entertaining other lovers for sexual release, she felt like she would be holding them back with one hand, just predicting their eventual demise.

She had the feeling Theo wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

Maybe, she considered, she was drawn to his steadiness. To the fact that he was tied to this land and to this goal and it was unlikely he'd perish. Maybe the glimmer of stability was too bright to ignore.

Or maybe, she dared to think, she was drawn to Theo being Theo. This was the most shocking of all.

"As I do you," Theo admitted. His hand slipped to her knickers, pulling it off, tearing it slightly in the processes. As miffed as she was- that was nice underwear- she had the feeling that the shopkeep who'd helped her would be squealing in glee at this. Wedding lingerie wasn't supposed to last the night, the girl had said, not if the wedding night was done right.

He was still kissing her bruisingly, his whole body warm and shaking above her with the effort and excitement of the upcoming events. He checked to see if she was wet just briefly (she had been since he'd kissed her hand, she was mortified to admit) before she heard the clinking of his belt unbuckling.

There will be more foreplay next time, Hermione mentally told herself. As it was right now, she would have been rather cross if he'd even attempted it. She just felt like this was going to be quick and hard and everything none of her other experiences had ever been and great Godric did she want that.

Theo kicked his trousers off the bed, to join the ever-growing mountain of things cast aside. He palmed himself, squeezing twice. Hermione joined her hand down to touch him, causing his whole body to jolt like he'd been electrocuted.

Then, he seemed to just sink into her touch. His forehead pressed down her cheeks as he let out a heavy pant, inhaling. Preparing.

Hermione helped guide him in.

Once he was sheathed, Theo let out a string of cuss words Hermione didn't recognize. The scholar in her was somewhat thrilled to hear such a response out of him, but also curious as to what they were. They sounded Old Norse. She wondered how much he actually did know, despite what he claimed.

Once he had started moving, it was obvious that it wasn't going to last long. They were both too strung up, coiled like a taut rope, for it to go any slower. Hands grasping, breaths exhaled, bed shaking...it wasn't unenjoyable. No, rather the opposite. Hermione had only two other experiences under her belt, but this blew them all out of the water. By a wide margin. Great merlin, Theo was going to ruin this forever, wasn't he?

He lifted his head just enough so that she could see the sweat that slicked back his hair and the redness of his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, I-,"

"It's fine," Hermione insisted. Something pitched in her chest, a fire growing, as she realized she was rising to finish too. What a nice idea, considering her last two times hadn't been...well, she didn't want to speak ill of her partners.

With Viktor, despite his celebrated status and the girls fawning over him, he'd been just as much a virgin as she. He had been sweet and caring like every girl hopes their first time is, but it had been very fumbling and a little awkward. With Neville, it had been sudden and Hermione got the impression it was more about pressing close to another, living, breathing human being than to enjoy it.

She had heard Ginny say that women couldn't always orgasm just from penetrative sex. Hermione had thought that to be true, looking back, but now she wondered. While Viktor had tried to get her off with his hand, it had been experimental in nature. She'd been about to bring his hand down to the v of her legs, but she found herself close without any of that.

Her wondering didn't have a place in her mind long, not as she teetered on the edge. She was somewhat pleased to see that she lasted longer than Theo, unable to tumble down over the side until she heard his garbled moan right next to her ear.

He lay on top of her for a couple moments. She could hear her own heart beating, and strangely, Theo's too. No, not hear, but feel it. Deep within her, like she'd felt his emotions. Their heartbeats, though fluttering like a hummingbird's wings, were racing perfectly in time. There was something nearly romantic in this.

Theo kicked back the sheets of their bed with his foot. Hermione was too exhausted to consider putting her clothes back on, and Theo the same.

He curled her up within his chest, sighing.

"Night, love," He mumbled, his words slow with drowsiness.

Perhaps it was the fact that Theo felt so concrete behind her or maybe it was the safety of the wards, now fortified and expertly cast, but Hermione was able to drift off to sleep. She had not felt so safe as to rest her eyes since the fleeing of Hogwarts, where the battle had started to go downhill. The beginning of the end, Parvati had once lamented darkly.

The girl who always slept with one eye open didn't even think to check on the location of her wand before sleep overtook her.

_September 18th, 1996_

Hermione was woken to an ache between her legs, and fingers there too. Theo was nosing up her exposed neck, licking and sucking.

"Good morning," She breathed out, seeing the sunlight stream through the window.

"What a good morning it is," He agreed. She could hear the smirk behind his words. Still naked, Theo was pressed up to her backside, holding her firmly to him.

Hermione smiled contentedly as he parted her legs, sliding into her from behind. She needed little preparation, and the pair of them slotted together so naturally that it felt right to have him move inside of her.

This time was slower but no less passionate. It was just like a scalding, trickling lava making its way down a mountainside. The heat beneath it was still hissing, but it didn't move at any fast great pace.

Today, Theo and Hermione explored each other's bodies, or what they could from this position. Theo, the ruddy bastard, finished her twice. The first, with his fingers pressing against her with no prompting needed, and the second as he came close too. His other hand was everywhere else; exploring to find where she shuddered under his touch, teasing her, clasping her firm.

This time, he stayed buried in her, slinging his arm over her shoulder. Hermione found she was in no great hurry to have him move.

Her fingers linked together with his. Their marriage burns rubbed against each other and she stared at it.

They hadn't really done much to mess with the timeline before now. Yet, here she was Hermione Granger, married. To Theodore Nott, no less! She doubted in their original timeline this would have ever occurred, so this was indeed quite the jerked left turn away from the trodden path.

What was she now, Hermione Nott? Hermione Granger-Nott? Did she keep her last name? She hadn't actually thought about it.

She supposed what would matter, and what was inarguable, was that she was going to be Emilia Lihote.

"Was that okay?" Theo asked, sounding a little mortified. She laughed. She sort of liked to see the Slytherin unbuttoned, awash with so much emotion he lost his good sense to consider and plan.

"If it wasn't, I would have stopped you," Hermione said meaningfully. Perhaps it wasn't the time now, but they should certainly talk about children since it seemed like this was going to be a regular thing. Basically, married-friends-with-benefits? Did such a thing exist? Well, it did now.

"Mhh," Theo placed his head right beside hers, bringing his hand up with Hermione's attached one. He seemed to be looking at the markings with a hint of awe too.

"We're always going to be alone," Theo said, his voice dropped to a whisper, as though the words he spoke were sacrilege, "Even when we begin to make friends here as Muggles, even when we save our past friends, even if we have the Weasleys and Malfoys living in this goddamn house next to us, like one big dysfunctional family...we'll always be alone. We're from the future. We're not part of them, though they feel they are a part of us," The stark truth of it sent a shiver down Hermione's spine, "And it may never get better, that feeling. I wish I could promise you it will, but I'm going to try to be honest with you. You, not just as my wife, but as a friend and my partner with this, deserve this truth."

"But?" Hermione asked after he was quiet a second, not because she needed a 'but' because she felt one unspoken.

"But we'll be alone together," He said, his voice warming so slightly she would have missed it, had she not been hanging onto his words, "We have each other now. That means a lot to me. Even if it doesn't to you, It's…" He broke off, unable to express himself. She got the acute feeling it was very rare he opened up to anyone. The fact that he was here, vulnerable and naked behind her, was probably significant.

Hermione turned around to face him. His eyes were glistening with wetness. She cupped his cheek, running her fingers comfortingly over his face.

"It means something to me too."

It did. She could have had someone she outright despised on this mission with her, or someone she did not fancy at all. She might not love him as a husband, but she cared for him as a friend and she was willing to foster these feelings further. She was willing to cast aside everything and everyone except him, for the sake of the mission, even if it meant being alone.

"I'm with you. The two of us." She said firmly, "And, despite what you say, I don't think we'll have it be as lonely as you seem to believe. I have hope." Of what, she didn't say, but he seemed to understand.

Theo snuggled next to her for a while longer, his whole body slumping like he'd been holding his shoulders stiff.

"My wife," He exhaled.

"My husband," Hermione countered.

He peeked one eye open, "You any good at cooking?" He asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Yes and no," Hermione groaned, "I'm no great chef, but I was able to make edible things while on the run. But, as you can imagine, it was really whatever was available for me. Because of that, I've got quite the repertoire in my mind of unique ways to substitute items." She narrowed her eyes accusingly, "But if you think I'm going to get up and out of bed and make you breakfast like an obedient little housewife, you're barmy."

Theo kissed her forehead, "I wasn't, well, sorta. I was just seeing, between us, who was going to be making the meals. You're damn lucky my mother taught me how to cook when I was young, or rather, made sure the house-elves would teach me," He announced. It was the first time Hermione was sure he'd talked about his mom. She knew that she was dead, but she didn't know much more. He'd talked when he was ready.

"You do?" Hermione said, grinning, "So are you going to get up and make you breakfast, then, my little house husband?" She waited to see if her tease went too far, but Theo seemed nearly delighted by her.

"If you wish." Theo said, doing a bow the best he could in the bed, "But it won't be a feast, sorry."

"That's fine," Hermione sat up, watching as Theo rolled out of bed to fish for his trousers, "Err, why, though?" Not that she needed every breakfast food imaginable, but her curiosity won her over.

Theo's eyes were alight with the flame of rebellion, the flame of progress, "Because, Hermione, my dear, we have work to do."


	16. XIII

_ September 18th, 1996 _

They sat in the study. Well, Theo’s study. They had separate ones. Hermione wouldn’t have cared either way if they’d had the same area, but it had been Theo who had suggested it as they were directing movers. 

“The house is big enough? I mean, wouldn't it be nice to have a place to recede if we need to, just to ourselves? There’s plenty of other places we can sit together.” 

Hermione was truly starting to understand that Theo was a grade-A introvert. 

Theo made them eggs and toast with a pot of tea. Hermione could have done that, so she was still waiting for his miraculous cooking skills that he claimed to have. Having not to think about making it herself was one of the few things that kept her mouth shut. 

She had assumed by ‘work’ he meant the wards. Which, he had, sort of. 

He proposed that they work on them over the next week. At Hermione’s faint arguments, he’d flourished a well-manicured schedule in front of her, ranking the wards from most important to least, as well as how long he thought it would take to do each one. Hermione had to be impressed with his organization skills, as she told him. 

Theo looked at her strangely, then shook his head. 

“Right,” He said, leaning on his elbow, his fingers pressed to his temple, “It’s you I’m talking to. You probably had all your classes colour-coded and a whole studying schedule, eh? I did too before you get all huffy. I suppose I’m used to Draco, who should have been a Gryffindor with the way he just leaps into things, very little organized thought necessary.” At Hermione’s grin, he kept talking, as though emboldened, “He’s shit at things like this.” A frown slowly settled across his face, “He was shit at it.” He added, like an afterthought. 

“You can still say he is.” Hermione said quietly, “Probably just as bad as you remember.” 

Theo looked down at his list. Internally, Hermione could almost see what he dared not say. How close was ‘his’ Draco to the younger one that was off at Hogwarts now? Were they even comparable? 

It was a moment she wanted to sooth. She itched to reach out to him, but Theo coughed, moving on himself. 

With the warding figured out, they moved onto talking about potions and plants. They had two large greenhouses out back, so they may as well put it to use. They first made a list of the most common potion ingredients. Then they made a list of the most difficult plants to obtain, as it would be in their best interest to grow those. They ended up making a middle of the line list anyway, plants that weren’t used common and were easy enough to grow, which basically, made a comprehensive list of plants regardless. Hermione still would argue it was worth it to categorize them. She also pointed out that they might want to consider growing actual food, in case things went _ really _ south, and this manor ended up as a safe house. They wouldn’t need to venture outside for a lot of food if it were already here. 

“We’ll have someone build two more greenhouses,” Theo said as he watched Hermione consider which plants were worth cutting. She looked up, setting it aside slowly. To have basically endless money at their fingertips was bizarre to her. She wouldn’t have to sacrifice any plant for space, not when they could just build more structures. 

“Are you any good at Herbology?” Theo asked as he took out maps of the grounds, penning with a light pencil the places he was considering building. 

“Better than cooking,” Hermione grumbled, “I’m...well, I can grow things.” She said, placing her hands on her lap. 

Even before she and Neville had slept together, they’d been steadily building up their friendship. So, sleeping with him wasn’t even a surprise to her. After she’d lost track of Ron and Harry, she and Neville- while they’d been in a house near Leeds together- had been tasked to tackle many things as a pair. For months, they’d worked near each other- not unlike her and Theo were doing- and shared skills. Hermione had increased his potions abilities, Neville had shown Hermione the secrets of having a green thumb. She had found something nice in his friendship, in their closeness. She also started to find him attractive, but she didn’t think much about that. 

After Hannah had died, right after he'd left post-sex, a very small part of Hermione had allowed herself to consider a near end. A fantasy where the tide turned and everything turned out alright. She thought that maybe she and Neville could move on together, as a couple, if Ron never turned back up. She thought maybe they could work.

It had only been the very briefest of thoughts. She’d locked it away for later consideration. Later, as in, after everything was said and done. Then Neville had died and later, like so many other things, never came. 

“Yes,” Hermione said, forcing brightness to her voice, “I’ll do well in there.” 

“You okay?” 

“Just a whisper of the past. Err, future,” Hermione said, correcting herself. Theo gave a quiet ‘ah’, instantly understanding. 

They moved into some of the more sensitive subjects, more dangerous planning. 

Theo stood up and walked over to his bookshelf. Then, he moved to a box sitting by the bookshelf. Many of their items were still in brown containers, waiting to be opened. They had the furniture in the rooms, but they didn’t have it pushed where they wanted it, and they for sure didn’t have the smaller things set up. He rummaged for a moment before procuring two identical notebooks. 

“We’ll write out the timeline. As exact as we remember it to be. Then, we can chart our progress, mark in the differences, you know, in case the time-continuum starts to collapse.” He added dryly. Hermione ran her finger over the spine. It was enchanted, probably with many of the same wards on their house, modified for small wizard items. 

This could be very dangerous if it fell into the wrong hands. 

Theo and Hermione spent the better part of the day in silence, each going meticulously through the upcoming year, writing out any detail they recalled. While Theo hadn’t planned it, to have a soldier from the dark side and a soldier from the light, working in tandem on this, was quite the resource. Between them, they would be able to construct a good idea of the trajectory of the future. 

By the time that Theo suggested they continue it later, he’d only gotten to March of 1997. Hermione had reached December of this upcoming year. The book would magically sprout more pages if they reached the end, as well as allowed Hermione to erase, hide, or notate any important words or moments. It felt heavy, not just physically, but weighed down with the magic that clung to it. She knew Theo had brought this with him from the future, likely he created these with Draco eons before Hermione’s involvement was even spoken. She wondered if the book she held was the one Draco was meant to write in, or if they hadn’t gotten as far as claiming the books anyway. 

Theo collected the books, placed them side by side on the shelf. As soon as they touched the dark wood of the structure, the covers shimmered to read as two utterly droll and common book titles. It would be unlikely some curious mind would pick those up while browsing Theo’s shelves. 

“Take five?” Hermione asked, realizing as she stood how hungry she was and how badly she needed to go to the bathroom. 

“I’ll scrounge up some snacks for the next topic. By the way,” He paused at the threshold, “Erm, any food allergies? Things you despise? Things you like?” 

“No allergies. I’m not partial to mushrooms, but I won’t complain.” 

Theo raised an exasperated eyebrow, “Hermione, you’re not starving or begging anymore. You’re allowed to dislike foods. More than that, what do you like eating?” 

It had been so long that she’d been allowed to have opinions about something as frivolous as her favourite foods. 

“I’ve always rather liked French cuisine, but my favourite thing in the world is lemon bars.” She said, standing as well. 

“Lemon bars. Right,” Theo tapped his head, “Good to know.” 

By the time Hermione had returned from walking around to encourage blood back into her legs and a stop to one of the many gilded bathrooms, Theo had cut up some bread and made what looked like crostinis, topped with some olive paste and cheese. 

“This is a casual snack?” 

“I grew up in a manor, Hermione. This is the equivalent of Muggle pop tarts, but we’re low on food. We’ll have to venture outside eventually,” He announced with a half-disappointed sigh. 

“You know…” Hermione stopped herself, though her surprise that he was familiar with the sugary breakfast food could not be contained, “This was apparently, a very thorough research process.” 

“I can’t say I like them,” Theo licked his lips, as though recalling the fake sugar taste, “But Draco hoarded them. I think he was sincerely looking forward to living in a world where he could buy them in bulk. Speaking of which, do you want to put on some music? Draco and I tried to do our best to stay up-to-date on Muggle pop culture. It would look strange if we didn’t know anything about it, like we were weird shut-ins who’d never seen a movie or listened to any of the songs that, annoying as they are, just get stuck in your head. I charmed this radio to pick up pop stations. Music is one thing I do wish that the Wizarding World would be a little bit quicker about picking up.” 

“So then, you’ve watched a muggle movie?” Hermione asked.

“Several. Fargo, Jerry Maguire, Scream…” Theo scratched his head, “And a couple more.” 

Hermione was near speechless, “That is, erm, well even I haven’t seen one of those.” 

“Well, we weren’t going to just half-ass this, Granger.” 

“It’s Nott now, isn’t it?” Hermione said before she fully thought about her words. 

“You’ll always be Granger to me.” 

He tapped the radio on. The song that was playing was ‘Wannabe’, a song that had Hermione snorting into her hand. To her great surprise, although it shouldn’t have been so, Theo seemed familiar with it, humming it under his breath. 

If someone had told Hermione three months ago, or even a month ago at that, that she’d be married to Theodore Nott in a great big house in the past and they’d be in this moment, sitting together eating a plate of light snacks listening to the Muggle Spice Girls and he’d be properly enjoying it, she might have thought they were losing their mind. It seemed impossible to believe even now. 

Theo had another notebook out. She idly wondered how many magical secretive notebooks he had. Maybe endless, like their pages. 

“Okay, we need to write down who we’re going to try to save- your side of knowledge, who we’re going to try to get to defect and hide low- my side, and who’s a lost cause, so who we might just have to kill.” 

“You know,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes, “If you kill a murderer, there’s still the same amount of murderers in the world.” 

Theo’s face was hard, glaring at her, “Then I’ll kill two. Or twenty. Or however many it takes. I don’t mind casting a few Avadas.” 

“At the cost of the corruption of your soul?” 

“Hermione,” Theo said, his voice tight, “I assure you, I’ve done far worse things.” 

A part of Hermione felt like she’d been violently whiplashed. For as good as she thought Theo to be, for as much as she was starting to enjoy his company, as much as she knew he hadn’t wanted to be a Death Eater...he had been. He was. It was murky. 

Theo had done extremely terrible things. She had forgotten that. 

This realization sparked something. Something horribly terrifying, something Hermione hadn’t thought about before.

“Your Dark Mark!” She tripped over herself, as fear clutched her heart, squeezing it like a vice, “Do you still...could He...what do you-,” 

“Hermione, whoa,” Theo said, jumping up and grasping her shoulders in an effort to keep her from having a breakdown, “We don’t need to worry about that.” 

“Don’t need to...Nott, are you mad?” 

“I’m unmarked,” Theo said simply. She hadn’t seen him without long-sleeves yet, apart from last night, but she hadn’t exactly been surveying his skin like a cartographer. He undid the buttons of his cuff, rolling up his sleeves, both of them, to show Hermione unblemished arms. She stared, uncomprehending. 

“But you…” She bit her lip, “I was sure.” 

“I was, for all intents and purposes, a Death Eater,” Theo confirmed, “But Old Voldy didn’t often give that ‘gift’ until about the age of 25. Claimed the fatality rate was lower, since getting the mark often burst people’s brains from the inside. I’d seen it happen.” 

“But Draco, he-,” 

“Got it as a punishment. For his father disappointing his Lord. It wasn’t because he cared about Draco, Merlin no. My father never made Voldy so angry. I mean, my dear old dad didn’t offer our manor up or exert himself too much beyond what was required, but the scrutinization wasn’t placed on us. My father proved himself in other ways.” 

Theo leaned back in his large cognac leather chair, his face turning ashy. Hermione stayed silent, understanding that Theo was about to open up. She wasn’t going to do anything to discourage it. Theo licked his lips, staring out the window with a dark expression on his face. He held his face tight, but there was a quiver of his lip, giving away the anguish that he held quietly beneath. All Theo’s previous bitterness was gone when he spoke, replaced only with regret. 

“We had to move up the timeline. Draco and I. We both thought I’d have more time until twenty-four to ‘die’, but The Dark Lord decided to give me mine early. A few of his Death Eaters had been killed, needed new blood. We didn’t account for that. We knew once I was marked that it would be impossible to continue on. We were working on how to de-active Draco’s, and it was only working because I was not marked yet either. I was the one doing the tests, but I couldn’t have done with Voldy in my head with the mark. So I had to die early.” He dropped his head down, “I was supposed to be Draco’s second, I was always his second. The Dark Lord suspected I wasn’t dead and he tore apart Draco’s mind looking for me but didn’t find it. For fucking months, he kept looking, waiting for Draco to trip up. And Draco just managed, for me, for the sake of the past and the future. It was after one of Voldy’s sessions of mind raping; Draco was sent out on a mission, he wasn’t thinking right, wasn’t fit for a raid. He got paired with fucking Goyle, who had no clue what he was doing, and Draco got hit with a curse that turned his body inside out because Goyle wasn’t looking at his blind spot. I was always his second, I should have been there, his mind was fucked up because of me, I…” 

“Theo,” Hermione’s voice was soft but firm, “It wasn’t your fault Draco was killed. It’s His, for starting this. You were both right. None of this could have happened if you were marked. We would have been found out. You couldn’t have completed the time-turners or potions. It was necessary.” 

“I just always thought we’d have more time,” Theo wheezed, “Ironic, isn’t it? I almost turned it back to just before Draco died, I almost did. But I wasn’t sure if the turner would be able to take more than one big jump and I knew Draco would want me to carry on with the mission, but it’s been hard.” He swallowed, “I think he would have gone to you too, had I been the one left behind.” 

“He’s alive now, and we’ll keep him that way. I swear it,” Hermione said, “Theo, I promise. We’re going to save him. Him and his mom and his dad and anyone else we can.” 

“I know we will,” Theo said, but his voice was tight, “I’m not sure I could…” Whatever he was about to say, he broke off. He coughed once, going back to his list, “We’ll pin the Malfoys down for a midsummer action.” 

“Wouldn’t you want them to be our first?” Hermione asked, surprised, “If we get things set up in time, we should try right away with them, shouldn’t we?” In Hermione’s mind, she was imagining a world where Dumbledore wouldn’t have to be killed, where they could keep him and his help for longer. Maybe that’s what would turn the tide. Them, taking the Malfoys away, saving Dumbledore. Maybe-

Theo pressed his lips into a thin line, “We can’t,” He said, shaking his head, “Lucius is starting to have doubts, but he’ll deny all of them this entire year. Denial truly blinds you. Up until Draco fails killing Dumbledore, he’ll keep thinking it’s all fine. Voldy will curse Draco within an inch of his life and then turn on Narcissa. It will be then that Lucius will realize how far gone this whole fight is. His loyalty will shift. But it can’t happen until Draco fails and Snape kills Dumbledore anyway. That fight has to happen," he stressed, “There are certain points in the timeline I feel are necessary, as much as we hate it. Dumbledore has to be killed, I’m sorry, Hermione.” 

“So we sacrifice Dumbledore for the Malfoys?” Hermione hissed, furious. 

“He’s dying anyway,” Theo informed Hermione, “He’s tried to kill a Horcrux and it’s eating him alive. Even if we somehow saved him, Voldy would just get someone else to do it or he’d keel over by his own stupidity a month later! Plus, Dumbledore already knows. All of it.” 

“He...knows?” Hermione heaved, “And he did nothing to save himself?”

“He did what he could, but in this timeline, in another, in ours...it’s inevitable. But once we get the Malfoys out, things really will turn. He might still use their house, but Lucius was one of his right-handed men. It will start to shatter him. Draco’s a lynchpin, as much as you may hate it.” 

“That is yet to be seen. I think it needs more analyzing,” Hermione said, frowning at her own work. 

Theo shrugged, “In time, I think you’ll see it my way.”


	17. Chapter XIV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays to all :D

_ Sept 19th, 1996  _

“Happy birthday, Hermione.” 

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading through, quirking an eyebrow. 

“It’s not really my birthday.” She said plainly, turning back around, “Since we skipped half the year.” She was very aware of the date, but it just felt like another moment to her, “Oh! For our fake birthdays, so we can more accurately track it, we should calculate how much we had to go before we would have hit our birthdays and add that to the day we arrived here to get our new birthdays. So we can continue to accurately chart our years and...you already thought of that, didn’t you?” 

Theo smirked, “Guilty. But, it is a great idea. Which is why I thought of it.” He nudged her, “But it would be remiss not to mark this date.” 

“I disagree.” 

Hermione hardly needed to be reminded of her birthday, which in her youth had hardly been a big event. Her parents had always made her some cake alternative, being dentists and all, and while Hermione understood the need for clean teeth, she’d wished they’d let up just once. Now that they were gone, Hermione hated her birthday for not taking those moments more seriously, holding onto them. And, what women liked to be reminded she was ageing? Plus, it felt rather useless anyway, since it’s not as though they were here to enjoy things such as ‘birthdays’ anymore. 

“But...but I made you a cake.” 

Hermione sighed, knowing that Theo wasn’t going to let this go. Who would have guessed that between the two, he’d be the more nostalgic one? Hermione was entirely ready to let it go and forget about the whole celebration. 

“At least, to celebrate the other Hermione’s birthday.” He said, nudging her, waving to a cake next to him that somehow had gone completely unseen, “It’s your favourite,” He goaded. 

“Chocolate caramel,” They both said in unison. This did win Hermione over and she let Theo cut her a very big piece. 

“You knew that. Did I ever tell you?” She asked, trying to recall. Maybe she had. Maybe it came up innocently. 

“One of the only times I ever saw you eat candy was if it was caramel.” Theo said, waving his fork “I’d guess it was because of your dentist parents. But anyway, cheers,” He said, holding up his fork, “To younger Hermione.” 

“To Younger Hermione,” Hermione echoed. 

“-Who is turning sixteen today.” 

“Err, seventeen.” 

Theo blinked at her blankly, “What?” 

“Seventeen. I turn...seventeen…” She trailed off, noticing Theo’s expression. His lips were turned down and he was staring at her intently, “I’m legal today. Younger me.” There was another long pause in which Theo did not speak, “What, you don’t believe me?” She was actually closer to 18, what with her usage of the time-turner her third year and re-living everything for an entire school year, but as far as the Ministry counted, she was seventeen. 

“No, I do, I just…” Theo ran his fingers through his dark hair, “I thought I knew so much about you.” 

“Oh?” Hermione asked, curious but also not believing him.

“Six years of watching you, even without meaning to. Trust me, I wasn’t gawking, you were just always there. I know that you always wore your jumper as part of your uniform, even when it was ungodly hot out and the only time you did shed it was if it’s over 27 C, I know that you preferred lemon tea with just a splash of milk but never any sugar, and I know that sixth year, you had fifth hour off and were almost always late for Ancient Runes, which means that you were exactly on time, which to you is late.” 

“But we didn’t have that class together,” Hermione said, knitting her eyebrows. She was reeling from all the information spewed back at her, things she hadn’t even actively thought about, such as the whole bit about the jumper, but she realized with a startled inhale it was all true. 

“No, we didn’t. I had Herbology with Ravenclaws, and we were in that side room, the one not too far from the Prefects bath. My assigned seat was just below a window where I’d see you walking briskly in the direction of Ancient Runes, and sometimes your hair would still be wet. Ergo, you had fifth-hour off, sixth-hour Runes. You probably preferred to bathe there when no one else would be scrambling for it, which I get that, but often lost track of time. Point being, I know all of these things about you and I somehow never picked up you were a whole year older than all of us?”

Hermione didn’t really have a reply. She stabbed her cake, shrugging. It was quite good. Kudos to Theo on being a decent baker. And, kudos on Theo for figuring all that out. Someone may see her hair wet on occasion and never think much of it. She wondered how often he’d seen her so that he had committed this to memory? 

“I guess it’s nice to know I can still surprise, on occasion,” Was all she finally managed to say. 

Theo snorted, “Hermione, you’re anything but ordinary. Surprise may as well be your middle name.” 

_ September 21, 1996 _

It was two more days before Theo announced they should go out of the house. As much as Hermione yearned to take the next large steps in their plans, she was also growing attached to the routine and the safety of their house, which they’d decided to call Castle Drake. 

It had been Hermione who had offered up the tentative title. An olive sprig of an offering. No, not quite the olive branch- they weren’t fighting, but it mattered that she was the one who spoke it. They’d been going back and forth on a name for it for a long while, whenever their minds had a free moment. Had Theo brought it up, maybe Hermione would have denied it outright. The fact he didn’t said many things to Hermione. 

She couldn’t say that she was overjoyed to have her house’s namesake as Malfoy, the boy who had teased and made most of her school days miserable. She trusted Theo, and by extension, trusted the Draco she had never got the opportunity to know. It was more of a peculiar kindness to her husband than it was anything else. 

And, had Draco never died, she may never have gotten this chance. So, there was much to be grateful for, as many reasons as there was for Hermione to be glad she wouldn’t have to interact with him much ever again. 

“We don’t have to,” Theo had tried to say, but his eyes showed how much he liked it, “We can settle on something else.” 

“Nonsense. It was Draco’s idea for this whole insane plan, wasn’t it?” Hermione pointed out. At Theo’s careful nod, she continued on, “And so he should be honoured. Drake is a reasonable enough name for anything. A dragon has been used as a mascot for centuries.” 

The more she said it, the more Hermione was starting to feel like it was the right name. 

When she and Theo were not arguing about the thinness of the timeline and starting to organize a plan, and when they were not fortifying the wards, Hermione was carefully putting things away. 

She was a bit miffed at her own lack of Gryffindor bravery. She should have been bothering Theo to get out long before he suggested it, but every time she thought about saying something, it died in the bottom of her throat. 

Nature and instinct were hard to ride over, it seemed. Her body, aware that it was safe, well-fed, and arguably happy here, were none too keen for her to leave it again. Every time she imagined going out, her stomach would lurch uncomfortably, as though her base-self thought she’d be thrust into the world again, like before. 

She had Theo now as he had her. They would keep each other safe. She knew it. 

Theo didn’t look any more pleased to have to go out of the house, though it was not for the same reasons. Already, he was becoming aware of where he could slink off to in the house to vanish for a bit, and there were many locations. Hermione equated him to an entirely black cat choosing a black rug to nap on. 

It was something about Slytherins she hadn’t quite thought of. 

If Gryffindors were classified by ‘action’, Slytherins were ‘inaction’. 

Hermione had never given thought to if she should or should not fight for what was right. Like most of her other lion-hearted housemates, it ran as naturally through her as did her blood. In fact, it was almost a cardinal sin to think of just sitting back and letting something so awful happen without attempting to intervene. Of course, Hermione often took things farther than most did and had been accused of sticking her nose in places it didn’t belong more than once. 

Theo, on the other hand? Until spurred into action, he may have been content to sit back forever. Not quite for it, against most certainly, but not a man of action like Hermione was. He was more or less begrudged into this, doing it because the pieces had fallen and something had to be done. Ignoring even the fact that he was a quiet and withdrawn sort, his Slytherin side kept him tethered away from the action. It must be an entirely new world for him to be taking such a front-seat to all of this mayhem. It must also prove how bad things had gotten that the Slytherins were taking up arms to win this. 

“We’ll have to go down to the courthouse, rightfully marry in the Muggle world,” Theo said, “And I also think it’s about time we pay a visit to my dear father,” His lip curled in a vicious smile, “Inform him of our nuptials. Plus, the Nott Manor was raided and destroyed in our time. I’d like to pick up some childhood things...for sentimental reasons.” 

Hermione had near nothing from her past life, except for her Hogwarts book. She hadn’t thought of going back to her old place...if all things went as they did before, her younger self would be Obliviating her parents within the year and sending them away. That Hermione had taken very little with her. This Hermione was not opposed to sneaking in afterward, collecting trinkets and memories she hadn’t realized she missed until it was gone. 

“Your father?” Hermione said, his words catching up, an alarm bell tingling in her mind as she realized what he was planning, “Theo-,” 

“He is not a good man, Hermione,” Theo snarled, his mind made up and in no mood for arguing, “You think I’ve done bad things? You think Voldy’s a bad guy? For every psycho out there, there’s one who follows just as gleefully behind!” 

“But why do we get to be judge, jury, and executioner? If he’s so bad, time will give him his due.” 

“No,” Theo said firmly, shaking his head, “No, no...I don’t trust time, eh?” He said, holding his hand over his chest to where he kept the time-turner kept, always, “And besides, whatever fate has designed for him is too good. There is zero lost love between us.” 

“I just think...I know we can’t let him stand, erm, he does know about time-turners so that’s a problem but have you considered what will happen in his absence? To the younger you?” 

Theo turned around, grasping the tweaked Polyjuice bottle for their chosen identifies, nodding, “Well, of course, I have,” He whispered, “The Dark Lord wouldn’t do anything rash. I was hardly a thought in his mind at this age, didn’t start becoming noticed until after the Battle of Hogwarts. I fought well, as well as I could manage. Accidently encouraged Goyle into killing Michael Corner, fuck, I didn’t mean to,” Hermione’s blood went cold. Even if he hadn’t himself, she recalled seeing Corner’s body laid out on the table, nearly indistinguishable and bruised. It wasn’t the worst she’d seen, but to know that Theo had a very specific hand in his death made her feel ill, “Said I had a great future the way I could will people to my plans. Maybe he saw me in him...great Merlin, what an awful thought. He might start giving me minor things, but I doubt he trusts me like he did my father. By the time he would? Hopefully, we’ll have saved the world by that point.” Theo added with a wry smile. 

“Are you sure you want to do it today? Are you ready?” Hermione asked softly. Killing one’s father was not a light undertaking. 

“Yes, it must,” Theo said firmly, “If not, I’ll find the family grimoire in three days and start reading about how to make a time-turner. We have to go now, so my younger self has no knowledge of it.” 

He held out Hermione’s bottle, a shade lighter than Theo’s. She took it, holding it to the light to see the markings on the side of the bottle indicating how much she needed to drink for this month. While it didn’t feel any different to put this face on, it was noticeable to Hermione. Theo would still look the same to her-she, of course, recalled what Bash would look like- but she was still a bit deflated to accept it. 

“Cheers,” She said dryly, clinking the potion bottles together, “Let’s get married. Again.” 

XXxxXX

The courthouse wedding was nothing to write home about. It was quiet, quick, and simple. Theo bought two bands that fit perfectly over their magical tattoos. While it was probably smart to hide them from the muggle view, Hermione was sad to see it go. She had begun to enjoy looking down to see it. It was now a part of her, just as was her hair and her intelligence. She was starting to rearrange what it meant to be Hermione Nott instead of Hermione Granger. It helped her compartmentalize away from her younger self as well. That Hermione would have been horrified at the idea of marrying a Death Eater.

And yet, here she was, marrying him again. 

They chatted with the workers at the courthouse, introducing themselves. Word had spread that a couple had bought the castle on the edge, and most were eager to meet the pair. She could tell that they were being sized up. And who wouldn’t? It wasn’t the average pair that went and bought a castle on a whim. She remembered the feeling from Hogwarts in her first year, when every time you smiled and introduced yourself to someone, they were choosing and making decisions that would probably follow you the remainder of your time. So, it was imperative they present themselves correctly and how they planned.

Hermione was nice and friendly, as she always was, and people seemed to positively, albeit a bit disinterestedly, to respond to her.

Theo, though? 

Well, he put on what Hermione internally called ‘Bash Brilliance’. If she didn’t know for a fact his wand was firmly in his pocket at all times during their trip to the town square, she would be sure he’d magicked some people with how they fawned over him. If Hermione was friendly, Bash was a celebrity. Not a single person he interacted with disliked him. He was getting invited to hunting groups or secret clubs and social get-togethers by the dozen, most within the first time of making his acquaintance. 

Theo took it all in stride, putting forth a persona of a person most enjoyable. Someone who hit all the right notes with his jokes was able to immediately understand what a person wanted to hear and give them just that, and never seemed overbearing or aloof. Hermione could hardly complain; they may need ins at high places to pull this whole plan off. 

She fell into the role of a darling, obedient house-wife to a wealthy man. She hadn’t planned it, but she did admit that she was a bit adrift with all this political subterfuge and innuendos. Even though Theo’s background was wizard, it carried over well enough for him to rub elbows with the richest people in town no issue. Hermione, not wanting to make it obvious she had no idea what they were laughing about, just kept quiet. 

Which, Theo would tell her later, made all the right impressions. 

“Men like that, they enjoy seeing a man who can control their wife.” He explained this to her as he steered her away from yet another dreadfully boring small-talk with an old white man who looked exactly the same as the twelve before, rubbing soft circles on her back, bracing for impact from Hermione’s objections. 

Hermione bristled as they walked out of the court-house, “Control?” She sputtered, “You, control me?” 

“Look, I know that’s bollocks, but it’s what they think.” He said, holding up his hands, “The wives are all vapid and boring. If they had a lick of smart, they abandoned it for charity events or saving orphans in Africa or something. You may have to brush up on your knowledge of fashion, gemstones, and proper manners.” He said. 

Hermione shuddered, “Sounds boring.” 

“It is. Trust me.” He winced, “Or, just stay silent and agree with anything they say and they may like you even more.” 

Hermione sent him a long, withering glare, “I don’t think I could honestly keep my mouth shut. It’s just not in my nature.” 

Theo pulled Hermione close to his side, chuckling, “Oh, don’t I know it.” 

XXxxXX

Theo apparated them to a deep forest. Hermione did not recognize it. She could tell Theo was nervous, though he didn’t say it. He kept looking over his shoulder, waiting for something, even though they were perfectly disguised. 

Wordlessly, except for the enchantments, Theo transfigured his muggle clothes into stunning and expensive pure-blood robes. It was not unfamiliar to something she recalled him owning before. Hermione tried to draw all of her memories of Narcissa Malfoy or Fleur into her brain to transfigure her own, but after one look at her weak wandwork, Theo snapped. 

“Here! Let me do it," he growled, using his own wand to do a few short motions to glimmer her clothes into a pair of robes befitting a proper pure-blooded wife, as Hermione couldn’t imagine she’d be pretending to do anything but. 

“You don’t have to snark at me,” Hermione hissed, “You’re the one who insisted we do this today. I will not be wrongly yelled at.” 

Theo simmered, glaring at her for no good reason. 

“Can you do any accents?” He asked, crossing his arms. At Hermione’s blank and confused face, he sneered. This was the Theo Hermione recalled from school, the bitter and twisted one, the one she hated so much. His father truly brought out the worst in him, “You know, disguise our voices?” 

“What does it frankly matter?” Hermione said, “If our cover story is that we’re hailing from abroad and coming back, perhaps both of our parents were English and therefore passed it on to us?” 

“No, no,” Theo was cagy, “My father wouldn’t believe it for a second. He would wonder why he didn’t recognize my last name. He knows all the purebloods in England, he could recite all the genealogies.” 

“Well, unfortunately, I’m rubbish at most except French. But we’re not trying to be French.” Hermione paused, “We claim we’re Nordic like you keep referring. That somewhere down the line, our respective ancestors married off to different cultures, changing our last names. Theo, we’re going to-,” She dropped her voice an octave, the word tasting sour on her tongue, “Kill him. All of this really isn’t necessary is it?” 

She didn’t like the idea of killing Theo’s father, but all of these dramatics was rubbing her the wrong way. Theo didn’t seem his usual self. While he was the master of disguise between the pair of them, he was unhinged and going too big, too noticeably different. 

Just like that, Theo’s shoulders seemed to lift, “Yeah, I suppose…” He scowled, but still looked troubled, “I dunno. Once again, the quieter you seem, the better it is. Let me do the talking.” 

Hermione, who wasn’t sure she wanted to be here, had little qualms with this. 

“Is there anything I should be aware of about your father?” Hermione asked, jogging to keep up with Theo’s long strides, “Just to be prepared?” 

“Well, you’ve met Death Eaters before.” Theo said in a dull tone, “Think of Umbridge, in a male form.” 

Hermione shuddered. “Surely, no one can be as vile as she.” 

“Oh,” Theo coughed, but it sounded raw like he was holding back a scream. It was almost a pitying ‘oh’, something that grated on Hermione’s mind. “Hermione...let me lay it down to you. He kills with glee, innocents preferable. Children mostly; thinks they’re loathsome and irritating. Rapes pretty women before he kills them. And then there’s me. Haven’t you ever wondered why I’m an only child?” He questioned. 

“Most pure-bloods seem to only have one,” It had not escaped Hermione’s notice of this, “I figured it was something to do with all the intermingling of the same bloodlines diluting fertility.” 

“Perhaps, somewhere,” Theo said, “But my explanation is much simpler. Have you ever actually seen my father, Granger?” 

Hermione shook her head. At least, never without his hood and mask on. 

“He was one of the first to sign up with Lord Voldy, way back after school.” 

Hermione counted off on her fingers, “He must be nearly seventy, then!” 

“Exactly. And here I am, his first kid in the older years of his life. Not because he wanted to ‘focus on his career’ or ‘hadn’t thought about it before now’ or any other weak-ass excuse you might try to fling.” Theo stopped so abruptly on the path that Hermione bumped into him, “My mother was his third wife,” Theo said quietly, “The others...my mother did last the longest.” 

He stared at the horizon, at the sun still in the sky with a deeply disturbed expression. Hermione pressed her lips, a cold horror growing her bones. She thought she might know what he was going to say, but a part of her hoped it wasn’t. 

“He probably could have had kids all the way from the first wife, but he kept beating them so horribly every time they became pregnant, they miscarried. I don’t even want to know how many half-siblings or full siblings I could have had,” Theo rasped, “And most times, the woman were so horribly abused that…” Theo steeled himself, “Wife number one killed herself. Wife number two tried to escape and my father found her. She bled out, left alone for three days. Would have starved had she not died first.” 

“How do you know all of this?” Hermione whispered thickly, “Did your father...tell you?” 

“Hardly. The portraits. They told me when I was young. They were all terrified I’d turn out like him. Pure-bloods may have fanatical views sometimes, but they all fear monsters,” Theo chuckled, “The only reason I’m here today is because of Narcissa. She befriended my mother, took her into the current pure-blood wife circle. It wasn’t long after that she found out she was pregnant with me, the fifth time since my father married her, she protected my mother. Convinced my dad to let this one live, citing that she wanted her own child to have a playmate if we were the same gender or a future spouse if we were different. I don’t know the full details of this discussion, but whatever she said made enough of an impression for my father to hold off his sadism enough for me to be born.” 

Hermione slipped her fingers in his hands, wanting nothing more than to just hug Theo right now. He looked emotionless, his eyes glassy. 

“She was safe for nine months,” Theo said, holding himself together as he shook slightly. 

“Was she beautiful? Smart? Like...you?” Hermione could imagine a woman with high cheekbones, inquisitive blue-green eyes, and a kind smile. It was obvious Theo loved his mother but mourned for her. Hermione had head enough to know it wasn’t going to be a happy ending, “You don’t have to talk about her now.” 

It was like Theo hadn’t even heard her second addition, caught up in memories, “She was,” He replied faintly, “She looked nothing like me. Except for my hair colour, the only things I took from her were internal. My intelligence. My humour. My…” 

“Kindness?” Hermione guessed. Theo was looking anywhere but at Hermione. He was looking at his own hands, which were shaking hard. 

“She was killed when I was five,” Theo said. Hermione noticed that it was ‘killed’ instead of ‘died’, just as she had feared, “Right in front of me.” 

A long-ago memory resurfaced, popping up behind Hermione’s eyes. 

“Third year. You could see the Thestrals in Care of Magical Creatures. Her?” 

“Aye.” 

“Theo, I-,” Hermione came to stand in front of him, pressing her hands to his cheeks. They were cold, blotchy red, “You don't have to tell me any more.” She insisted, pulling his face down to press her forehead to his. 

“It’s okay, you should know. As my wife,” Theo said, a hint of humour returning to his eyes, and also a softness when he looked at her, “You asked if there was anything to prepare yourself with when it came to my father. I think this counts. I should have told you before. As my wife, you should know.” 

“I haven’t told you much about my parents,” Hermione murmured, her fingers still tracing light patterns on his face, keeping them tethered. The air around them was crisp. Not as cold as the last moments in the forest before they’d time-traveled, but enough that it was reminiscent of a past time. This time, it was her soothing him, though. 

“We should fix that,” Theo said after a moment, “We should talk about ourselves, about our lives. It will make us understand each other more.” He turned his face, kissing Hermione’s palm, seeking the heat rising from her body. 

“Okay, back at the house,” Hermione agreed, but she was still trying to read the whole situation, read Theo’s emotions and his preparedness for this. She was entirely ready to drag him, unwillingly, back to Castle Drake if she felt like he was just going to devolve before they could do this cleanly. If they had to kill people, she’d be damned if they were caught because of their first foray into this whole plot. 

Theo gently detached her hands from his face. He seemed to re-orient himself, pull everything together. Maybe he sensed Hermione’s plans. 

He motioned they keep walking. 

She thought that was it. She was smart enough to put two and two together. However, it seemed Theo wasn’t done. It was like she’d opened Pandora’s box, dredged up long-suppressed memories. She could hardly fault him for wanting to talk about it. She wondered if anyone, Draco included, knew all he was telling her now. 

“It wasn’t anything special. I think my mom just got better at potions and healing spells; Narcissa was instrumental in that, I have no doubt. Plus, now that my mother was out and about in society, unlike his other wives, I think he knew he had to be a bit more cautious. The society might have turned a blind eye to bruises and broken bones, but if a spouse went mysteriously missing? That was something else entirely.” Theo shrugged, “It was never going to last. My father has always been a mean, awful, drunk. He’s always had a temper, always enjoyed violence far too much. It started with me. I once intruded on a ‘meeting’ and he walloped me so hard that Nacrissa feared my brain was bleeding internally. My mom tried to leave, I think. Take us somewhere safe. I don’t recall it perfectly and none of the portraits will talk about this to me. All I know is that my father was furious. I don’t know if he intended me to see it, I wouldn’t be surprised, but I will never forget seeing that. If it’s all the same,” Theo whispered, “I’d rather not share it in detail.” 

“Of course you don’t have to,” Hermione said, “You never have to tell me any more than you wish.” 

“One day,” Theo said faintly, “One day I will. Not to scare you, but so you…”  He pressed his lips together, “So you understand. But not today.” 

They’d reached the gates of the Manor. Not quite as large as the Malfoy’s, it was still impressive. It looked more Gothic, older in construction. 

Theo paused, staring up at it with a twisted look on his face. Hermione could almost see his heart pounding out of his chest. 

Just as she was about to suggest they go home, prepare mentally for this and try tomorrow or the next day, Theo shook himself out of his fugue. 

“Let’s go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots more info about Theo and his fam. I think that something along these lines is what most of the fandom holds, at least in some bits and parts! Any predictions about what you think will happen?


	18. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few people have pointed out that Sr Nott should probably be locked up in Azkaban right now...  
*cough*  
Yes, he probably should. Mea culpa. So just assume that this is already a slightly AU timeline where he wasn't present at the Ministry Battle or somehow snaked his way out of being caught and sent there! This chapter is rather important for a lot of reasons, you'll see, so it needed to stay in.
> 
> I also apologize for the lateness. Hopefully, things can get back on track :D

_ Sep 21 _

Theo and Hermione stood in front of the heavy wood and metal gilded doors. Theo’s shoulders were ram-rod straight, pushed back as he stood with his chin in the air. His expression was cold. There was a malicious glint in his eyes that reminded Hermione of Draco back at Hogwarts. His entire posture was uninviting. 

It was incredible to Hermione how swiftly and without issue that Theo could switch his personality and mood. This man was entirely different from the bubbly Bash that was endearing and made every man feel like they’d been chums forever, and even more different from the Theo she was seeing at home. She got the impression that Theo, the true one, was one that very few saw. She reminded herself she should be so lucky to be considered trustworthy enough to view him at his very vulnerable moments. 

Or, at least, Hermione did not want this Theo standing in front of the doors to his old home to be his true self. She did not want to be living with a monster, tied to it, for the rest of her life. She liked to hope that the Theo at home was the Theo that he was released and unbridled, but she could only hope. 

For all she knew, at home, it could be one part of a grand facade. 

Theo looked over at Hermione, examining her with a hint of disgust. She scowled back, biting her tongue, angry at herself for perhaps imagining herself so foolish as to think Theodore Nott was wholly the good person she saw outward. She should know, and she did know, that he had done very bad things. 

But hadn’t she too? 

“Look haughty,” He hissed quietly, almost not moving his lips at all. 

Hermione shot him a wayward look, “What?” 

“Look haughty,” He repeated. Her confusion was not in his words- she’d heard them fine- it was in her understanding of them. 

“How am I supposed to just ‘look haughty’,” Hermione muttered back, “Be more precise.” 

“Look like you’ve sucked on a lemon,” Theo schooled her, “Imagine you have all the money in the world and there are thousands of people who have none and you could be their savior or their worst nightmare. And imagine that you like that feeling of control, and on most days, you’ll choose to tease and tempt them, but never help.” 

“That sounds horrid!” 

Theo smiled, just for a second, “Yes, that’s the spirit!” He nudged her shoulders good-naturedly, just a hint of the person behind this stony mask before he rolled out his shoulders. He stood straight again before he vanished again. Before Her Theo was locked away to Theodore Nott, very much the scowl of a man she recalled during Hogwarts years. 

Hermione tried to do as he said. She imagined that everything she saw to her was incredibly displeasing, that even the sage bushes climbing the walls of his house (while she might find the idea of it charming) was one of the most abhorrent things she’d ever seen. She tried to look bored, as though Bash had dragged her here when in reality she wanted to be off...needlepointing? No, that was too tame. She wanted to be organizing a charity that was more about getting drunk with other high-society wives and less about the actual fundraiser. Yes, that seemed apter. 

Theo spared a glance her way. She must have looked exactly how he imagined, for just before the doors creaked open, Theo sent her a thumbs up. 

Fantastic. 

A wrinkled little creature opened the door. A house-elf. Hermione hardly should have been shocked, if the Malfoys had one, chances are that the Notts did as well. Theo’s eyebrows pulled down with a sad sort of recognition, but he swiftly replaced it with a look of utter uncaring. 

“Is the Master home today?” Theo spoke over the elf’s frail greeting, “I have urgent business with him.” 

“Who shall Twitzel say is here?” 

“Master Lihote. We’ve just moved here from abroad,” Theo looked anywhere but at the elf, appraising the house like it was his first time seeing it, but Hermione could tell something about this elf tugged at some heartstrings that he could not afford, “Tell Master Nott that we were recommended to seek him out by Eric Penderghast.” 

The elf snapped away. Hermione raised a questioning eyebrow as they walked into the receiving hall. 

“An old childhood friend. Name dropping, just to get in the door.” Theo said with a casual shrug. 

“But don’t you think-,” 

“My father will think he forgot us, that Eric had once spoken of me in passing. It would be quite the high-status faux pas to admit that he didn’t recall. Luckily for us, even if he’s wracking his brain trying to think of the mention, he’d never show it. Trust me,” Theo replied smoothly, not a care at all. As it was, his attention was elsewhere.

Now that they were alone, he looked about the house with a mixture of longing, sadness, and hatred. It was the strangest combination of things. Hermione had no doubt he was seeing ghosts of the past in every inch. 

“Same as you recall it?” 

“Almost perfectly,” Theo echoed, his eyes seeming to be miles away, perhaps in another time entirely. 

There was a loud banging and the squealing of the house-elf, though Hermione only caught the end of the discussion. 

“-So sorry, Master, of course, Master-,” The elf broke off with a horrible wailing and the sound of something thudding heavily against the wall. Hermione visibly flinched, rage coiling in her stomach. Theo saw her expression and shook his head firmly. 

Hermione managed to regain her aloof composure just as Thaddeus Nott opened the door.

Hermione nearly lost her breath all at once. Standing in front of her was an older Theo. When Theo claimed that he inherited none of his looks from his mother, he truly meant it. It was as though Theo had been cloned of his father. The only difference was Thaddeus’ wintery white hair, indicating a blond or ginger colour in his youth. Otherwise, it was startling to Hermione how similar they were.

No wonder the portraits worried about Theo. They must have thought this was nothing more than history repeating itself. 

“Mister Nott, I presume?” Theo was the first to speak, coming forward and bowing low, “Exactly as Eric described. My godfather.” 

“Ah, yes. You’ll excuse an old man for not recalling names as well, but I do remember Eric speaking fondly of you.” Thaddeus said, an absolute lie, reaching out to grip Theo’s arm. Theo gave Hermione a quick look, so brief, a ruddy ‘I told you so’ sort of expression that had her halfway between slapping his arm and laughing. She restrained herself as Thaddeus continued to examine Theo, “Strong grip, I see.” 

“I’m Sebastian Lihote. May I introduce my wife, Emilia?” 

“Pleasure, sir,” Hermione said, reaching her hand out to shake. Instead, Thaddeus lifted her dainty palm to lay a kiss to it. Hermione tried not to shudder. 

“A beauty, how’d you manage that?” Thaddeus asked, smiling lewdly at her. Hermione swallowed hard, covering it with a giggle, as though he enchanted her. Theo didn’t have to say it, but it had seemed that Thaddeus had preferred younger women. The thought made her gag in her mouth. 

“Well, my parents set up the very best match for me. Eric helped, of course. Good wizard, may he rest in peace. We’ve only just relocated here. Both of our parents were living out of England for our entire lives, but I’ve been offered a job at the Ministry. I was told I had a friend here if I could be so bold.” 

“Eric’s godson is always welcome here. And don’t apologize for boldness,” Thaddeus waved him away, “It will get you farther in life than cowering. Of course, if you have the right...attitude.” 

Thaddeus shepherds them away, taking to Bash instantly. Hermione wondered why even bother with this charade if his goal was to kill him? She noticed Theo glancing at the clock on the wall a couple of times, but she was unsure why he was stalling, or what he was waiting for. Hermione, while she still wasn’t entirely on board with this death, would rather they get it done and get out than be interrupted by a last-minute house call from Voldemort. 

Thaddeus brought Bash and Emilia into his study, pouring Bash some expensive Wizarding bourbon while calling Twitzel, who now had her ears bandaged, to make Hermione some tea, saying something about how women weren’t meant to drink ‘man’s liquor’. Hermione, feeling like she had nothing to add to this entire conversation, just kept smiling quietly. She wasn’t much a fan of that sort of alcohol to begin with. 

She tried not to slide out of her vigilant mood, but the discussion between the men was so droll. Twitzel, with her wide neon-green eyes, was so much more interesting, offering Hermione a springy lemon-ginger brew. 

Thaddeus asked a lot about Eric, mostly about the estate and apologizing for not being able to make it out to the funeral, while dropping ‘hints’ about living in England. Who Bash should get to know, or where he might start looking for a house, even which people to associate with. All his conversation skirted around Lord Voldemort without quite saying it, but Theo always responded enthusiastically to such whispers. 

Hermione soon found herself zoning out completely. The tea was good, as were the finger cakes that Twitzel provided. She found her eyes dancing around the room, reading each Dark Magic tome that Thaddeus kept squirreled away, as well as attempting to guess the gruesome job of some of the instruments lining the shelves she had never seen before. She may disagree with the philosophy of dark magic, but one could not deny that morbid curiosity that came along with it. And, if the items were already here, was there any harm in simply...perusing? For intellectual’s sake, of course. She knew far too well that the Malfoys had quite a pretty few dark items hidden under their floorboards. Thaddeus did not go to such lengths to covertly hide it. There, right at the corner, was the most intriguing looking skull that-

“Mi? Emilia?” 

“Hmm?” Hermione asked, jerking from her thoughts. She turned to see Theo and Mr Nott staring at her. She realized Theo had been saying her name awhile now. 

“Not the quickest on the upkeep, is she?” Thaddeus was four or five drinks in now, staring lecherously at Emilia’s breasts, “Or the loudest. As it should be.” He said with a firm point of his fingers, “But I find that sometimes the quietest here are the wildest in the bedroom, eh?” 

Theo looked torn. Hermione saw him laugh uneasily, “Thaddeus, that’s not quite...polite discussion, is it? Not with a lady in our presence.” 

“Oh, we're all friends here. The bint can’t hear for nothin’ either it seems, and I doubt she’d understand what we’re talking about,” Thaddeus said, dropping his voice to a very audible whisper. Hermione steeled herself, biting her lip to keep from slapping that smirk from his face. 

“That’s my wife,” Theo said, his tone hardening. Hermione could fight her own battles, usually, but she was still pleased with Bash’s loyalty to her. 

It did make her wonder...was there a line that Theo would not cross, no matter what he claimed? Was it her? 

“Sure, sure,” Thaddeus said, but his gaze never left her, “But we all tend to...share things sometimes. Now I’m not saying that the next time you wish to join our group, she’ll...but eventually. Young ones have to contribute somehow, you understand?” 

Theo gripped the edge of the seat, and Hermione almost moved to hex Thaddeus into next week. Before either could do any sort of rash movement, the door to the study opened with a surprised noise. 

“Sorry, father, didn’t know you were...entertaining.” 

Standing in the doorway was a young, sixth-year Theo. Hermione’s heart stopped. She choked a little on the tea, but neither of the men sitting next to her even seemed to notice. 

Little Theo’s voice was still cracking, just coming fully into manhood, but there was a cold detachment that Hermione didn’t hear from him often at all. The Theo she’d come back with was full of emotions; rage and sexual desire often, but emotions nonetheless. This Theo seemed empty to everything. 

“It was an unexpected visit,” Thaddeus grunted, “What do you need, boy?” 

“A book, perhaps it’s in here? I couldn’t find it in the library. Draco thought that it might do well for his study, erm, this year.” Theo said. He took two steps into the library to reveal Draco right behind him. 

Hermione couldn’t believe it. It was incredibly dangerous to be in the same room as these two, one of them the younger self of their current situation! Of all the bloody luck in the world that, today, these two just had to take a trip from Hogwarts to-

Theo wasn’t looking at the clock anymore, she realized. 

She turned, looking at Theo for the first time. His eyes never left the pair of boys. Somewhere, hidden deep, there was a look of utmost guilt. 

For just the briefest of seconds, Hermione wondered if he’d needed to see himself. To remind himself of where he came from, where he was going. The thought had crossed Hermione’s mind more times than she could admit that she just felt a weird pull to go and find the Hermione of this current year. If that was it, there were much less dangerous ways to do it than…

But Theo wasn’t looking at himself either. 

Understanding washed over Hermione so violently she nearly lost her breath. Theo had _known_ his younger self and Draco would be here today. He wasn’t looking at the younger Theo, he was looking at Draco. 

“And you need it now?” Thaddeus pinched his nose. 

“Well, if possible. You know that Draco has a special project that’s of utmost importance, father,” Little Theo said with a hard edge. Thaddeus scowled but started up off his chair. Little Theo and Little Draco were sniggering in the corner, completely unaware of the pair, or rather just not interested at all. 

As Thaddeus grumbled something about ‘needy, bothersome little bastards’ with many more expletives than Hermione wanted to commit to memory and got up to search the bookshelves, Hermione sent Theo a furious look and mothed ‘Theo’. If she had said it out loud, she was unsure what emotion it would have been thought. 

She was overwhelmed with so many conflicting feelings, all barreling over one another to make sense in her head. She felt dizzy and her mind ached from the confusingness of it. 

Anger; she felt anger. Did Theo not imagine that Hermione desperately wished to see her old friends too? Her old life? But did he see her doing something so incredibly foolish? 

Bitterness; for all about ‘we need to do this for the plot’ talk, he had put the entire operation in danger by choosing to come here today! He was no better than a moony-eyed girl. 

Pity; for how he looked at Draco with such agony and longing. 

Sadness and understanding; Hermione doubted she would have looked at Ron any different. Or, Merlin, even Harry! Or Neville, too. 

Having at least worked through all those, Hermione allowed herself to stare- though not quite as openly as Theo was- at the pair of boys. 

It was incredible how young they both looked. Hermione had imagined herself quite adult in the 6th year, but knowing how Theo looked now and staring at his younger self was shocking. He still had some of his baby fat and he was gangly and uncoordinated. She’d wondered if she’d been blind to his attractiveness all through Hogwarts, but now she was sure that this was a newer transformation. She could see now the sharpness laying underneath, but she had no reason to study him at that time. 

He was also rougher. He was a boy who was not much more than that. Just a boy. He had little reason to concern himself with all the issues that he’d no doubt take on six years from now. He was unconcerned, innocent in a weird sense. 

Draco looked exhausted and tired. Sickly. He had his orders by now, Hermione was sure, which is likely what they were searching for. A way to kill Dumbledore. The special project Theo had referred to? Hardly inconspicuous to those that knew. 

It wouldn’t be too much along. Hermione knew that Draco would stumble about the entire year trying to find a way and still failing. Hermione hadn’t known that Theo had helped at all. Maybe in their time-line, he hadn’t. Maybe he had. Theo had never given any indication one way or another. 

Draco, as dead on his feet as he looked, was still arguably attractive. She wasn’t sure it was right of her to say that, as she was a woman of twenty-three and he was scarcely sixteen right now, but the giggles of Draco Malfoy during her school years stood up. 

“Now, I may be wrong, but shouldn’t you two be at Hogwarts?” Theo asked, raising an eyebrow. Hermione would have kicked him if she could. They were better to draw themselves away from this encounter, but Merlin this man had no self-restraint! He had to go and bring attention to them! 

Draco narrowed his eyes, looking at the pair, as though really seeing them for the first time. Which, honestly, it was. Hermione didn’t think he’d looked their way since he’d entered the room and it’s not as though their alters had existed previous to a couple of weeks ago. 

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you two,” Draco drawled as Little Theo, as Hermione was categorizing him in her mind, and Thaddeus searched his bookshelf. 

“They’ve just moved from...well, somewhere,” Thaddeus said, attempting to recall but giving up entirely, “Godchild of an old friend and his lovely wife.” 

“Mhh,” Draco raised an eyebrow, looking half-bored with her. No, not bored, tired. Scared. Worried. Stressed. Mentally overwhelmed. She almost wanted to reach out, to soothe him, for as much as she hated the Draco she recalled...no sixteen year old deserved this much on their shoulders. Harry hadn’t, so Draco didn’t either.

Little Theo turned around, looking her up and down. Though he wasn’t as awful as his father yet- and hopefully never would be- it was clear he found Emilia attractive. Well, thank Merlin her younger version of her husband found her appealing like this, she thought with a hint of sarcasm. 

Hermione rubbed her finger over the bond tattoo. She could feel Theo’s, her husband Theo’s heart beating, as she could when she focused hard. She looked for any signs that little Theo felt anything about this weird marriage bond at all, but he hardly even blinked. 

Theo was glaring at Little Theo, as though jealous. 

God forbid! Arg, men, Hermione thought as she resisted rolling her eyes. 

“I assume you all have names from where you come from,” Draco broke in, snorting. 

“Sebastian, though you can call me Bash,” Theo said, holding out his hand to Draco. Draco shook it politely. Hermione almost wanted to tell Draco how much he meant to Theo, how Theo had gone and come all this way to see  _ him _ , put their entire mission in jeopardy for  _ him _ , Draco Malfoy, who Hermione honestly thought wasn’t worth the time. 

Theo was trying hard not to shake as Draco dropped his grip, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking back to Little Theo in a ‘let’s get out of here, mate’ sort of way. 

“You’ll be heading back to school soon, yeah? It’s nice that you were allowed here for the weekend.” Theo said, almost desperately, trying to keep Draco’s attention to his. If Hermione knew she’d only get one chance to talk with Ron and Harry again, after knowing they were dead in her timeline, she supposed she’d be frantic too. Even if she understood it, she was cross with Theo. 

“Yes. Ruddy fool of a headmaster insists we be back by supper.” Draco said bitingly, “Has Mr Nott told you how awful of a teacher he is? If you plan on having children, I’d consider sending them to Durmstrang just to get away from him.” 

“We aren’t that far ahead, but I’ll keep that in mind,” Theo said, forcing a smile. 

“Aha!” Little Theo crowed, “Found it. Do you-,” 

“Just get out my hair,” Thaddeus growled, shoving the boys roughly from the room. Theo watched Draco all the way until the door closed with a click behind them. 

No more than ten minutes had elapsed, but Hermione relaxed. She expected things to go sideways at any moment with the five of them crowded in here, for the fabric of the universe to tear at the seams. She hoped it was all worth it, she thought, daring to send another meaningful glare at Theo. 

Theo plied Mr. Nott with more drinks and kept talking, at least until the Floo in the study glowed green, indicating that Little Theo and Draco had left back for school through another Floo gate. During a story that was not nearly as funny as Thaddeus so thought it was, his wand clattered next to the chair. He didn't even seem to notice. But Theo did, as did Hermione. Theo inhaled, nodding to himself. Thaddeus was trying to explain something but didn’t notice the small, secret smile that Theo gave himself. As though he was holding onto a memory. 

Theo stood abruptly. This is what he’d been waiting for; his younger self and Draco to be away from whatever he was planning. 

“Something the matter, er, Bash?” Thaddeus asked. 

“You could say that,” Theo said, standing and moving about the room, a wicked grin on his face, something treacherous and dark and consuming. Hermione felt like the temperature in the room dropped immediately and she did not like the way he seemed. 

“Bash?” Hermione warned. 

“Don’t worry, love, I have this.” 

“Have what?” Thaddeus asked, confused and unaware of the magnanimous danger he was now in. Theo picked up Thaddeus’ wand from where it had fallen onto the ground, twirling it around his fingers. 

“Let’s see if this works...hmm, it recognizes me still,” Theo mumbled, ignoring Thaddeus’ protests before turning to the older man. When he spoke again, his voice was deadly calm, “ _ Crucio .”  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twitzel was the name of one of my brother's guinea pigs as a child lol I thought it seemed like a fair name for a house-elf and at today year's old I realized that the name was a combination of two of his favorite things; Twix and Pretzels. 
> 
> I imagine that because Dumbledore knew of Draco's specific task laid out for him, he allowed the boys to go back to the Manor for a quick visit to grab the book. I doubt that Draco found such ideas in the Hogwarts Library or that he would have dared to look into books from there for this task.


	19. XVI

_ Sep 21, 1996 _

Mouth full of cotton and throat constricting, Hermione counted the seconds... _ ten, eleven, twelve… _

Thaddeus’ screaming was something inhuman. The horrid caterwaul echoed around the halls of the manor, disturbing every inch of her being, rattling the books on the shelf and seeming to shake the foundations. The horrible sound persisted, one unending spine-chilling wail that seemed to meld into forever. 

Hermione was back at Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix had cast this on her. It was only the counting in her mind ( _ one, two, three, four seconds… _ ) that kept her mind from unraveling entirely, being lost forever. Like Neville’s parents. She remembered her consciousness trying to be heard over her own noise, telling her she had to count. She had to keep her mind focused on something else. Counting was all she could do. She couldn't even have recalled her own name if someone asked it of her. 

_ Thirteen. _

She remembered feeling like every inch of her was on fire, how it would never end. 

_ Fourteen. _

She remembered the pain of it, though she couldn’t think of any close equivalent to it now for it all paled to the actual feeling. 

_ Fifteen _ . 

She remembered how she’d tried not to scream, knowing that Harry and Ron would hear it and be horrified downstairs because you see she just had to be strong. 

_ Sixteen. _

She remembered the inky black tile floor, Mr. Malfoy’s squeaky clean shoes as they looked on at the show before them. She remembered being surprised that his floors weren’t red with blood, even though the cruciatus didn’t leave any wounds, she thought that something of this magnitude of pain should have her bleeding out from every inch of her, blood oozing from her pores or dripping from her eyes. 

_ Seventeen. _

She was back  _ there _ for it all. In a handful of seconds, far under a minute, Hermione had been thrown back to the Manor and she felt her body quivered as she relieved each second in real-time, as though her bones ached from the moment still. 

She never thought she’d feel sorry for Mr Nott, and she didn’t now, but she felt his torture so acutely, so horribly familiar that she felt like she’d been struck by lightning. 

Back in the library of Mr Nott, Hermione gripped her arms so hard that her nails made little bloody half-moons upon her lightly tanned skin. 

Theo did not seem that he was going to stop. Casting a cruciatus was an odious undertaking, but to hold it for nearly twenty seconds? He was closer to a monstrous creation right now than humans.

He had the strangest expression, of a man equally gutted and furious all at the same time, as he twisted the wand with a cool detachment, staring down at his convulsing father. She could tell the strain was getting to him; his arms were shaking, his forehead was perspiring, and his chest was heaving, but all these things were near imperceptible. 

Hermione gripped her hair, shrinking down as Thaddeus' screams became hoarse and nearly breathless, as she watched his body flop around like a fish, no control of himself anymore. 

Something stirred in her stomach and before she could stop it, she was retching up bile onto the carpet. 

This had to stop.

“Stop it!” Hermione demanded, but she could hardly be heard over the yelling and the begging, “I said stop it!” 

Theo either did not hear or did not listen. Hermione grasped her wand from her pocket, her finger shaking. Her palms were sweaty and she feared she wouldn’t be able to cast anything at all. 

“I said stop it!” Hermione cried over both of them, slamming her arms down. Something burst forth from her wand, sending Theo and his father back in different directions. She couldn’t have vocalized what spell she used, or even that she thought about using it, but it was something mighty powerful. 

Thaddeus moaned on the ground, blood dripping from his nose and all over his chin. On his way down, he’d slammed his head into the side of the chair. Hermione had heard the crack, like someone stepping on a branch in the forest. He was blubbering, his eyes hazy from the pain and staring at Theo with a fearful expression. For as great of a Death Eater he may have been, he was just an old man now. Nearly ancient, Hermione reminded herself. She shuddered to think about how much agony he’d brought about in his seventy-odd years of life, but now he was a quaking shell of who he once was. Hermione had little pity for him, but she didn’t condone this either.

Theo groaned, wincing as he picked himself up from the floor.

“I wasn’t fine with it, but I said we could do  _ that  _ not  _ this!”  _ Hermione hissed at him, dragging him up by his collar, “You sadist!” 

“He deserves it,” Theo snapped, trying to wretch from Hermione's grasp, “He bloody well deserves it! He killed my mother, he would have killed me too. He’s a monster!” 

“I’m not disagreeing, but this is too far, Theo!” She said. 

“Theo?” Came Thaddeus’ airy, confused voice from the corner, “That’s...that’s the name of my boy. Theodore...I picked it out…” He echoed, his mind dissolving from the prolonged torture. He seemed not all together anymore. 

“You’ve done enough of that,” Hermione said harshly, “Be done with it now. Do what we came to do.” When Theo just stared past Hermione with that darkness still shining in his eyes, Hermione pressed softly on his chest, “I know how badly you want to. I know. But please, Theo…” 

Theo tore his eyes away, looking down.

“He made my entire life hell, Mi,” He whispered brokenly, “And nothing was ever done of it. If he dies, it ends. And he’ll never...he doesn’t get that...the pain that he put me through, my mum….” 

“I know, I know,” Hermione whispered. She had felt the desire clawing at her stomach more than once to do awful things to people. To Bellatrix. To Dolohov. To Umbridge. She wished she could be as sure of her cause as others, not as drawn to the darkness. She hoped Theo understood she wasn’t coming from a place high above, someone who had never dipped their toes into this darkness, but as a person who had and still turned away, “But we have a bigger plan. You’ve nearly destroyed any sanity he had left anyway. We have a purpose. We’ll right other wrongs. If we stay here too long... if we draw this out…” 

Theo suddenly looked ashamed, “You're right. Fucking hell,” He said, running his fingers through his hair, “You don’t know how badly I want to.” 

“I do,” Hermione said, letting him pass. She knew that he would not use the cruciatus again, for now, he seemed settled in his resolve. 

Theo knelt down next to his father. Thaddeus’ fingers were crawling and his lips moved like he tried to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out. Theo saw that he was going to touch his Dark Mark and Theo pressed his boot onto his hand. Hermione heard the crunching of fingers and looked to the ceiling, wishing she were not so revolted by this. Broken bones were hardly consequential compared to the torture she had felt. 

“I don’t think so,” Theo said, looking repulsed at the Mark, “You do realize it’s over, don’t you Thaddy?” 

A tiny shimmer crossed Thaddeus’ face. As he spoke, it took great effort, “That’s...what Theo, my son, used to call me when he was young...wretched nickname, but-,” 

Theo leaned in, baring his teeth into an evil grin like a wolf next to a rabbit. He murmured a spell with his own wand that Hermione did not recognize, but it pulled back the enchantment of the potion, like someone peeling away a piece of tape from a surface. It seemed to take a great effort to hold it, a glimmering light purple light that emanated around Theo, showing his true self. 

“I did call you that, until I realized you were never going to love me anyway, no matter how much I loved you or tried to,” Theo informed him, chuckling darkly. Thaddeus made a gasping noise, something like a cough deep in his throat as he stared uncomprehendingly at Theo, “It worked, your time-turner theorem. The equation you wrote before I was born was nearly flawless, just needed a little tweaking.” 

“Devil...boy…” 

“I should be offended, but I rather think it’s true. Here I am, coming back to punish you for your sins. You have quite a lot, don’t you, father?” Theo said, almost innocently. 

“Theo,” Hermione said with a long sigh. He could be dreadfully dramatic at the very worst of times. Theo glanced up. 

“Ah, yes, Hermione, won’t come into the light here?” He asked. Hermione took one hesitant step forward, but it was close enough for Theo to pull her under the umbrella of the enchantment too, washing away Emilia’s face momentarily, “Yes, Hermione Granger. Golden Girl to Harry Potter. Well, I guess I should rather say, Hermione  _ Nott _ .” 

Thaddeus began to make little puffs of sound, something offended and deeply disturbed. Hermione scowled; after all of that, he was most upset about the marriage? Well, it’s not like Hermione had any hope that he was a good person underneath it all. 

“Yes, your daughter-in-law is a muggle-born. Your progeny will be half-bloods. Think about that on your trip downstairs. We both know you’re not going up,” Theo guffawed, stepping back. The enchantment snapped away, and Hermione felt the faintest feeling of their fake-faces falling over them again. 

Theo switched his hands, using his father’s wand. He handed his own wand to Hermione, as though afraid he’d be tempted to do something with it. Hermione held it fast, clinking against her own wand in her fist. 

“I hope it brings you great pain that the last thing you saw and thought about was your son and Hermione being part of our unhappy little family. I’d say I’d miss you, but we’d both know I’m lying,” Theo said, training his wand at his dad. His fingers were clasped gently, his arm did not even quiver, “ _ Avada Kedavra _ .” 

The light died from Thaddeus’ eyes immediately. Theo looked at the wand before setting it aside carefully, with more reverence than he’d ever given his father. 

Hermione stared at the slack body on the ground. She’d just been complicit in a murder. She felt all kinds of funny about that, as much as she did agree that he had to die. 

“What now?” Hermione asked, her voice way more uneven than she intended. 

“Twitzel?” Theo called, tilting his head as he summoned the house elf. The little thing popped into the room, looking around in confusion for who was able to summon her. Her eyes landed on Thaddeus’ body for only a second, her eyes widening in realization.

Then, she looked at Bash. 

Theo got on his knees in front of her and Twitzel reached out, placing her hand to his forehead. Like disturbing a reflection in a pond, his mask rippled and revealed his true self.

“Twitzel knew you seemed familiar, Twiztel wondered…” She said quietly, looking entirely at Theo, “Little Master is not so little.” 

“Not much, no,” Theo said in a stark kindness to how he’d just been. Twitzel furrowed her mostly-hairless eyebrows examining Theo with a carefulness that a mother might look over her children. 

“Dark magic, I can feel it. You have used something very powerful and forbidden to return.” 

“I suppose I have.” Theo murmured. He undid his tie carefully, “It’s about time.” He said, offering it to her. Hermione watched as the little elf completely broke into tears over the necktie, sobbing loudly into it. 

“Master Theo! I never imagined...I did not…Sir!” 

“It’s not safe to stay here. You are free now.” Theo said, standing up. 

Twitzel was still blubbering, “Twitzel does not know where to go!” She protested. 

“To Hogwarts. Dobby and Winky will no doubt be glad to have you,” Hermione broke in, as she watched this interaction. For as dark as Theo was, there were moments he was unquestionably light. He was one of the grayest people she’d ever met, something she hadn’t seen much while fighting just for the light side. He’d mentioned something along those lines, that this is what they were to become. The balance of it all. 

“Can Twitzel come with you? Oh please, Master!” Twitzel said, hugging Theo’s leg. 

“We can’t bring her back,” Hermione muttered, shaking her head, “Theo…” 

“She pretty much raised me. She’s very attached, Granger,” Theo said, patting her head, “It might be for the best anyway. I’ve severed her fealty to this house, so that if the younger me tries to summon her it won’t work, but if she sticks around Voldy might find her anyway. Make her speak. Torture her. If she hides out with us, a Castle Drake, she’s for sure safe.” 

Hermione huffed, realizing he had a good point. 

“Fine! But she’ll have to have a salary,” Hermione announced, “Err, it doesn’t have to be money, but we have to pay her something. It will just be like before, otherwise.” 

Theo was grinning at Hermione like she was delightful, a weird look of admiration on his face. 

“Mistress is the one who tried to free many elves two years ago, isn’t she,” Twitzel said, narrowing her bulbous eyes. It seemed like so long ago, but in this time, it had only been two years ago Hermione had started S.P.E.W, hadn’t it? 

“I’m with her,” Theo said, inclining his head toward Hermione. Her heart warmed at his support, “And also, you’ll only stay with us until the younger Theo comes of age. By then, it will be safer for you. Plus, Merlin knows he’ll need you more than I do. He’s an orphan now,” Theo murmured, his face changing a little, as though he was for the first time realizing this himself. 

“Twitzel can agree to that. Oh, thank you Master Nott! You are exactly the man your mother wished you to be!” She said. 

“Strengthen the wards so no one can get in. Gather anything you need or want. We’ll all leave together soon,” Theo announced and she popped away again. 

“You’re an orphan too, you’re just as lonely,” Hermione pointed out, reaching for his arm as he passed by her to exit the room. She caught his sleeve and he just paused, looking at her with a half-lightened expression. 

“I have you, though, don’t I?” Theo asked, tilting his head, “Sure, younger me has Draco and my friends but it’s not quite the same. For better or worse, whether we meant it or not, we made a family of sorts.” He said. Hermione inhaled deeply, nodding. 

“You’re right, you do have me.” She looked at Thaddeus, “Will He...know?” 

“That he’s dead? I think so, which means we’ll have to be quick about it. The way Draco described it was that it was as though the Dark Lord is holding a fistful of strings, each attached to a Death Eater. When he wants them, he tugs on it. He probably won’t know he’s been tortured, he can’t have felt that, but he'll feel the absence, like the string dissolved in his palm.” Something struck Theo’s face suddenly, “Remember that!” He said excitedly, something connecting deep in his mind. For as intelligent as Hermione was, she couldn’t for the life of her understand what was so significant about it.

“Remember what?” She asked, but Theo had moved on. 

He was going through the library shelves, throwing books haphazardly at Hermione. 

“Start shrinking and lightening. We’re going to raid this place.” He said, “I’ll grab, you pack. With the wards up and stronger thanks to elf magic, we’ll have about half-an-hour before we gotta be gone.” 

Hermione didn’t question, she just followed Theo as he frantically shoved things toward her. She considered that perhaps they should have one this first, tied up Thaddeus and killed him at the end. Oh well, it was their first...expedition. There were bound to be some mistakes and things learned. 

“You’re free to take anything that catches your fancy. Younger me will be set with Gringotts, so don’t worry about taking anything from him. But, since we are married, you are entitled to literally all of this too.” He said simply. Her first instinct was to tell Theo she doubted there’d be anything here she found worth taking until she realized that the Notts had collected quite a lot of historic and ancient artifacts, muggle included, which lined the halls like Christmas decorations. Theo passed them right on by, so Hermione decided to take some. For posterity (and a little, to say a general ‘fuck you’ to Thaddeus Nott). 

Theo moved decisively, zig-zagging them through the halls of the house. It was obvious he had a very good idea of what he would take long before they arrived, for he picked up with a confidence that never faltered. Even though it seemed like an endless maze and Hermione lost count of how many rooms Theo had pulled her through, she was sure it was bigger than all of this entirely still. There was one room Theo would not let her in, and while she wasn’t sure, she had a feeling it was his father’s bedroom. For the best, probably, and he was only there for the briefest of seconds. 

The last place was Theo’s room.

Hermione hadn’t given thought to seeing Theo’s childhood bedroom. He was so far removed from who he’d been during Hogwarts that it seemed like a stranger’s room, but she couldn’t help but watch him busy around it anyway. Gray, mostly. Dreadfully dull colors. A few Quidditch posters hanging from the walls- she remembered he’d been on the Quidditch team starting fifth year- and a sexy pin-up witch that winked and blew a kiss toward Hermione. By all accounts, none too different from Ron’s room. Boys were boys no matter the circumstances, sometimes.

Theo took the most from his own room, grasping and throwing toward Hermione nearly too fast for her to do her wandwork. She was thankful that her weightless and shrinking charms were two of her best, otherwise, this would be an incredibly difficult trip home. 

At long last, just about when there was something pressing against the wards (which Hermione strangely realized she was connected to now, as she was a Nott by the most magical of means) alerting the pair of the presence of others. 

“We gotta go,” Hermione said frantically. Theo nodded, calling Twitzel and grasping one last wide scoop of things from his desk and popped them to the back lawn. The day was starting to wean, the sun setting behind the tree line. 

Theo dumped the armful of things at Hermione’s feet. 

“I’ll be back!” He said over his shoulder.

“Theo, what are you doing?” Hermione asked, reaching out and grabbing his shirt. 

“I’m going to drag my father into his workroom, lock the doors. Set a fire. Burn his body, making it seem like a bad accident. Don’t want Voldy digging through his body and finding anything he shouldn’t.” 

“Theo! No!” Hermione cried, but it was too late. Theo and Twitzel popped away, back into the house, leaving Hermione alone on the grass.


	20. XVII

_ September 21st, 1996 _

Hermione collapsed forward, Theo’s sudden departure catching her off balance as she tumbled onto the grass. Heaving and breathing hard, she scrambled up, staring with horror at the house before her. 

What if Theo died? What if he made a mistake and he went down with his father in that house? Playing with fire was no joke, nothing he should be taking so lightly or foolishly! What if he never came out and Hermione was left alone here, in the past, in that big house all by herself? 

It hadn’t been very long, but yes, she’d begun to depend on Theo. As her partner, as her other half, as someone she needed at this time. Hermione admitted to needing people very infrequently, and to realize how much she needed Theo on the cusp of his possible death was perplexing as much as it was frustrating. 

She could feel her heart pounding wildly, and like each second he was gone, it was as though it beat louder and harder until all Hermine could hear was the sound of her blood through her eardrums. 

Or what if he was captured by whoever Voldemort had sent just as he was coming out? What if they should have been faster? What if he was caught and tortured? What if this whole plan would be killed before it even truly began? 

Oh, they were woefully unprepared to come here today! They should have planned more, should have been both completely on board and well-versed in these actions, down to the minutes of all of it! 

And how dare he? How dare he sprout off all that about how he had Hermione, whereas his younger self had no one, and then leave her on his back lawn while he raced toward certain death? It was practically Gryffindor-like, and as fearful as she was, Hermione was also angry with him! 

A cloud of smoke burned up from the center of the house.

Hermione felt her breath stop.

“Theo!” She exhaled out. She hoped she could tell if he died through their bond, but she was so concerned that she couldn’t think of reaching out for that.

Okay, the fire was set. Theo should be arriving back here any moment now, shouldn’t he? 

So where the hell was he? 

The house roared. Hermione’s blood went cold. Theo had set of Fiendfyre. 

Hermione couldn’t even count the seconds in which he did not appear. Every moment he did not come back out was like one long lifetime, pulled out in front of her, and cut harshly with scissors just before the happy ending. 

What was she going to do if he died? She wasn’t sure she could take this job alone. 

She knew she’d have to. She knew what she would have to do and it almost seemed cruel. 

Hermione started to imagine a version of this timeline where Theo,  _ her  _ Theo- even as just a twin flame (for, she wasn’t sure if this was love, not yet still), never returned. A future where she went back to Castle Drake and lay in their bed all alone and soldiered on. Where she had to navigate the darkness and the awful things she might have to do to win without Theo to guide her to... temper her. A future that was just as lonely as the one before. 

It was a sullen existence. 

Then, from out of the back door, Theo appeared. 

He was coughing and sooty, his whole face covered in black ash. When he sucked in air, it sounded funny, his lungs not quite exhaling as it should be. Hermione ran across the grass to him, collapsing into his robes and letting out a small sob. 

“You stupid, stupid boy!” She cried into his neck, “I thought you were dead! How dare you!” She asked, pulling back and slapping him. 

“I probably deserved that, even if I am injured,” Theo gave a rough, smoky laugh, touching the place where she’d hit him, “I had to make sure the body was...consumed. Took more finagling than I thought.” 

Theo gave a deep, harsh cough and Hermione patted his back, rubbing it. Theo looked upwards, to the burning manor he’d once called home, a finality and calmness on his face. 

“Let’s go home. Twitzel?” He asked, “I asked her to make sure that no one got through, but we’ll go now. They’ve no doubt set up anti-apparition wards, but Twitzel will pull us through ‘em.” 

“Master is injured!” Twitzel cried, “Master needs attending to!” 

“I’m fine. We need to get out of here. Hermione, grab the bag. Twitzel, take us both back home.” 

“Does she know?” Hermione asked, squinting at the house-elf, “Where that is? If so, how?” After Theo gave her a wry grin, she groaned, “If you just say ‘magic’, I swear to Merlin-,” 

She didn’t have time to get her threat in. One moment they were standing in the raining embers of Nott Manor, the next they were outside the gates of Castle Drake. 

“Oh! What a most beautiful house, Master Theo! How splendid.” Twitzel said, staring up at the arches and the stonework. 

“Don’t you feel bad about burning down your childhood and ancestral house?” Hermione asked, helping Theo limp back into the kitchen. Twitzel went to work immediately to make them dinner. Hermione was glad she didn’t have to worry about that. 

“Not much.” Theo shrugged, “My younger self will be called and I can let them in through the barrier, whoever was dispatched. No doubt wizards as esteemed as them- Lucius is probably among them- can douse the fire. But if I know myself, and I do…” Theo got a rag from the sink, running it under the water to dab at his face, “I might just let the damn place burn. When we were raided, I didn’t mourn losing the house, I mourned losing the items inside of it. Which we retrieved. So.” He said with a shrug that seemed a bit nonchalant. 

“Right, the items,” Hermione said. Although she was clutching the bag so hard her fingers had begun to go numb, she had almost forgotten their existence. 

They left Twiztel in the kitchen and dumped out the contents in the still nearly-empty living room, beginning to sort. 

As they did so, Hermione could see Theo start to deteriorate. It was like being there, he’d been able to keep what he was doing and his sanity separate. It was part of a job. Now that he was home, with Hermione, in a place he was used to being more open, it seemed like it was becoming harder and harder for him to focus. Hermione could see him getting roped into the day. 

She wondered when it would hit. As much as he wanted to claim that killing his father was nothing short of necessary, and even enjoyment, he’d just committed patricide. That wasn’t a casual thing. If one didn’t feel something about it, it would place them among the likes of Voldemort, which was a terrifying idea. 

“You know,” Theo finally said, his voice small and childlike, “In the entire war, I never had to use the killing curse. People died indirectly because of me, but never...I didn’t…” Theo stared right ahead, but he seemed to be focusing on something very far away, “He was my first one.” 

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked, “It’s okay to be upset.” 

“I’m not!” Theo snarled, uncharismatically angry with a sudden burst. 

“Hey! It’s fine, you don’t have to be upset or fine. You can be neither,” She said. At least, right now he could be. Shoving emotions onto someone was no better than never feeling them at all. 

Theo didn’t answer. He pulled a newspaper toward him. The Daily Prophet. It was one of the things he’d swiped from his desktop in a fit of half-panic at the end. He probably hadn’t intended to grab it. He was about to throw it behind them in their trash pile until he paused. His face went white. 

“Theo?” 

“You know what?” Theo said harshly, standing abruptly, “I just need some time to myself. I don’t need a nagging wife around me, bothering me with these ‘emotions’ and all,” He said. Hermione squinted. 

“What the hell, Nott?” She demanded, following him all the way to his study. 

“Salazar, you just stick your nose in everything. Can’t you see I want to be alone? You’re smart, define ‘Alone’ for me. Spell it too!” He said, slamming his door in his face. Hermione heard the click of the lock, and then a spell going up.

She stood, fuming outside of his door. 

He’d just locked her out! And blew up on her for no good reason! She took back any worries she had about him dying, he wasn’t worth it! 

She stalked back to the living room and snatched up the Prophet, sitting on the edge of the couch in the corner, intent to see what set him off. 

There it was, in the bottom corner in loopy, ostentatious writing: 

_ Malfoy Scion to Marry Miss Davis.  _

Hermione blinked at the announcement, confused and uncomprehending. Draco was betrothed to Tracy Davis? In what world? 

Apparently, this one. 

She frowned. In their timeline, she was sure Draco had been promised to the younger Greengrass, though nothing had ever come of it. Certainly not a betrothal at the age of sixteen, that seemed...extreme. Even if they were, she would have been less surprised than Tracey. She’d forgotten about the existence of the girl up until, well, now. In her time, had her family ever aligned with Voldemort? Hermione honestly couldn’t recall. 

She checked the date. It was decided a day after they fell into this time, ran in the Prophet the next morning. 

Had their being there for less than twenty-four hours, even if they felt like they hadn’t done anything drastic, already altered the time-line enough for this to happen? 

Either way, Hermione realized why Theo was upset. Just as she was bewildered and trying to struggle through this change, it must be worse for him. 

A part of her told herself that Theo’s tantrum wasn’t her problem. If he wanted to hole himself up in there all day, fine. Let him. She had better things to do! Just because they were married by law didn’t mean they were married by feeling. They were, more accurately, a pair of roommates...that just so happened to be married. Married friends-with-benefits. Married business partners. All of those were all sorts of oxymorons, but it was also the truth. She had no obligation to sit there like a pretty little housewife and coddle him while he licked his wounds. 

So Hermione very decisively focused on other things. 

She was still more mad at him than she was grateful he was alive. The number of things he'd done wrong today were almost too many to list, but she’d go crazy if she didn’t list them. She should be the one yelling at him, not the other way around. 

She went to the greenhouse and started preparing the soil. She cast the enchantments to climatize small portions of the area for plants that needed specific conditions to grow (the snowy tundras of the Arctic, for example) and started to plant the few they had acquired expertly.

It would have been a lot easier to ignore Theo if he wasn’t, in the back of her mind, present. Literally.

Through their marriage bond, which she was informed by the burning of her ring finger, she could feel his emotions. The sharp, static bursts of anger, of hurt, of agony. It burned like a candle. Sometimes, it was like a person had thrown kerosene onto it and the emotions exploded out, sometimes so startling and real that Hermione felt herself clutching her chest. 

Well, she sure as hell hoped it worked both ways! If she had to sit here through Theo’s feelings, she would be damned if he couldn’t feel how frustrated and irritated she was with him! 

Soon, though, the emotions ebbed down to just a dull, unfixable and all-consuming aching emptiness. Coldness, like a dementor's kiss. The absence of. 

She may still think he was akin to a spoiled toddler stomping around and making a fuss, so she didn't excuse his actions, but she understood. In one whole day, he's practically lost everything all over again. He was giving it all up for this cause, for the hope they’d make a different ending to the story, one where they won. And, even after they did, the life he’d been part of before would be all but vanished in the hands of time and change. Nothing would be like it was before, for better or worse. 

Hermione wanted to comfort him, she came to realize, but she was unsure how. She’d never been great at that. Ginny had always been more able to carefully read emotions and then use the proper gentleness in her voice or say just the right things. Hermione was a little bit too brash, a little too pragmatic to ever master that. 

But she wanted to. Not just because they were married and the bond had her feeling these things. Not just because she should. Because she did care for Theo and she knew that as bad as a day she might feel like she’d had, being reminded of her time in the Malfoy Manor and nearly losing Theo, he had it thousand times worse.

Luckily, before she had to go and knock on his door like a meek little mouse, asking if he would please let her in- which, she was sure she was not going to do unless this lasted days- she felt something sizzle away in his emotions. An olive-branch. He was reaching out to her.

Hermione pushed the door open as quietly as she could.

Theo sat in his chair, looking out the window, the rims of his eyes red and he looked mentally exhausted. Even though it was hardly five P.M, it had been a long day for both of them. 

“Who knew,” Theo began awkwardly, looking up to Hermione with a hint of embarrassment, “That killing your abusive, waste-of-space father would still leave you feeling so…void.” 

“To take a life is no small thing. I may sound callous, but I’m glad you’re upset. It shows you’re not like...Him.” 

Theo gave her a soft smile, “I hadn’t thought of it like that.” Maybe it was a sigh of relief to him as well that he was not as far gone as maybe he imagined himself to be. 

“You hadn’t really worked through it. You put it all off before. You killed your father,” Hermione said since there was no use pretending like he hadn’t or saying it in some sort of useless code, “And you learned that your best mate is engaged today.” 

Theo bit the inside of his finger, pressed against his mouth, “Yeah,” He mumbled faintly, “I did.” 

Hermione waited. 

Theo stood, coming up to her, “I shouldn’t have said those things.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have.” 

“And I got carried away with the cruciatus.” 

“You sure as hell did.” 

“And I shouldn’t have run back inside like an idiot to set the fire.” 

“Nope.” 

“And I put us at risk to see Draco again today.” 

“Good,” Hermione said, squaring her shoulders as she stared up at him, “You realize.” 

Theo shook his head, “Merlin, woman, you aren’t letting me off the hook for anything, are you!” He said, halfway been frustration and amusement. 

“No, I’m not,” Replied Hermione firmly, “It wouldn’t be beneficial for either of us if I did that. You fucked up today, badly, on many accounts.” She said, “I’d hope you’d be so honest if I ever put this mission in danger so recklessly.” 

“You’re right, per usual,” Theo groaned, “I’m just sorry for all of it. And any errors I missed just now.” He added, wincing slightly. 

“Well, at least you can do that right.” Hermione sighed. Just as Hermione had never learned the fine art of comforting, Ron had never learned how to give an apology worth anything. It was refreshing to see that Theo had the most basic idea of how to do that. 

“I thought I had lost you,” Hermione said after a beat, “When you didn’t come out right away.” 

“And that was a horrible thought to you?” Theo said, surprise clearly coloring his tone. 

“Well, yes, of course,” Hermione said, “We’re in this together and I’ve quite...I’ve come to enjoy your company.” 

“Well, that’s nearly a complaint, golly-gee,” Theo said. 

“It is one!” Hermione bristled, “If you’re not going to accept it, then-,” 

“Calm down. I just like seeing you all riled up.” Theo walked over to her, very close. Hermione backed up three steps until she hit something hard and unmoving. She was at the edge of Theo’s grand black desk, “It turns me on,” He said as he nipped her earlobe. 

“If that’s true,” Hermione panted, “Then you’d be hard basically all the time.” She was easy to get flustered, which she was well aware of.

Theo smirked, “Who says I’m not?” 

He leaned down to kiss her, swallowing her in his emotions. Hermione melted into him, curling her fingers in the nape of his neck, tugging slightly on his hair. Theo picked Hermione up, setting her right on his desk as he maneuvered his legs between her thighs. 

“Wait, wait,” Hermione said, pulling them apart, “Is this...are you…” 

“Words, Hermione,” Theo teased, nipping at her neck. Hermione collected herself, which was incredibly hard to do at the moment, what with Theo lavishing her neck and moaning. 

“Listen!” She said and Theo did back away, raising an eyebrow at her, “I don’t mind having sex with you-,” 

“Uhm, great?” 

“Can you just shush. For one second? Thank you,” Hermione said, pressing down her skirt, “Now, as I was saying, I don’t mind having sex with you. No strings attached style, as it is. We can be married and have sex but it doesn’t have to be making love. I don’t expect any emotions, I’m not like most girls. What I will not accept, however, is to be used as a prostitute. Just a vessel for you to escape into when you’re feeling sad. A...a…proxy. If you’re having sex with me, I want you to be doing it with me. Does that make any sense?” 

“Hermione,” Theo tugged on one of her fly-away curls, “I want you. All your firey, annoying, intelligent, sexiness. I’m not sitting here trying to do this so I can imagine you’re someone else. A- that would be impossible to do, as you’re not quite or malleable and B- I am flirting with you because I want to fuck you. Not just because you’re my wife because I was honest before. We only have each other and I’m glad I  _ do _ have you. I want to show you my appreciation. No ulterior motives. Besides, I’ve heard that makeup sex is the best kind.” 

“Oh,” Hermione had been almost sure he’d been doing it for other reasons, “Well, in that case, proceed.” 


End file.
